Spirits of the Past
by KasumiMizushima
Summary: A character-based fiction, alternating between events in the past of the original game story and set in an alternate future.
1. Ancestral Spirits

Hello, just a few notes before we get started. "Spirits of the Past" is an excellent full-length anime movie originally titled "Agito the Silver-Haired"...no, wait, that's a different Spirits of the Past. This one is a fan fiction centered around one version of the central hero character from the Guild Wars series. Rather than portraying events from the game, however, I'm dividing the story between events before the game proper started, and set considerably after. As a general rule, odd-numbered chapters (such as this one) will be set in the past, and even-numbered chapters in the future, although there may be specific exceptions - those will be noted in these, well, notes, as well as in the place-and-time crawl at the top of each chapter.

A couple more thoughts on why I am writing this piece - they say that the only way to improve your craft as a writer is to write, and they're right, whoever they are. To that end, I appreciate honest criticism of my work, especially of things like writing style, word choice and sentence structure, et cetera. Commentary on things like characters and overall plot are also appreciated, although generally speaking saying "So-and-so isn't like this in the game!" isn't helpful. If nothing else, piping in to say "Hey, I read this" is always fun. I do ask that any feedback be courteous in tone - saying my writing is rubbish is perfectly acceptable, saying I am rubbish is not, and I will trust you to understand the distinction. I can be reached by leaving a private message here, or by email at . I look forward to hearing from you.

**~~~ Chapter 1: Ancestral Spirits ~~~**

_Strait of Malchor, the Bay of Sirens, Tyria_  
_1562 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Scion_

Kasumi sat cross-legged on the meditation mat in the cramped cabin and concentrated, focusing her mind as the instructor from the monastery had taught her. One by one, she pushed away her outer senses. She closed her eyes, and the cramped cabin around her faded into darkness. She closed her ears, and the howl of the rising gale quieted to silence. She focused farther and pushed away the taste of the morning's ration of rice, and the mixed scents of tar and aged wood and the unwashed sailors. She felt the whisper of silk and the rough straw mat and the rougher wooden boards beneath her, and these too she pushed away, leaving her in stillness.

"To master the outer world, one must first master the inner world." That was what the instructor had said. Her name was Quin, and she taught at the great monastery on Shing Jea island. For a fee, her parents had hired Quin to tutor young Kasumi in the art of meditation, the beginning of the study of magic, while they summered on the island and waited for the autumn trade winds.

That was what the instructor had said, and "Stay in your cabin, Kasumi" was what her father had said, and so she sat in her cabin and contemplated the inner world as the storm built around the ship, heaving now from to and fro as the waves whipped higher in the gale despite the wind finder's best effort to calm the raging elements. So she sat, and focused, and pushed away the ship and the sea and the storm, and gradually she became aware of another presence in her tiny cabin. Her eyes snapped open. "You must always be watchful, Kasumi" was what her parents had said, before, and young Kasumi was nothing if not dutiful. The room was empty.

Again Kasumi closed her eyes, and pushed away the sound of the gale, the taste of the rice, the smell of the sea, and the feel of the deck, and again she felt a presence with her. With her, and yet somehow terribly, terribly distant. Distant, and yet oddly familiar. Familiar, and somehow comforting.

"In times of trouble or sadness, the ancestors will be there to guide and comfort you." That was what great-grandfather had said. Great-grandfather had been very old, and very wise. Great-grandfather had died last year, while Kasumi and her parents were away.

Kasumi could remember the worry in her father's voice, and the frantic activity of the sailors as the sudden storm arose around them. Kasumi was young, but she was old enough to be afraid. She thought of great-grandfather and reached for the comforting presence, and the presence spoke.

"Can you see me, child? Can you hear me?" That is what the presence said, and eyes tightly closed, young Kasumi nodded, and she knew why she had thought of great-grandfather. "I can hear you, sousofu," she said, and then she thought that perhaps the spirit could not hear her across that terrible distance between them, not if she spoke the words aloud. "I can hear you, sousofu," she said again, this time in her thoughts, in the inner space she had created by pushing the outer world away.

"You must find the captain." That is what the spirit said. "You must tell her," and the spirit whispered something to young Kasumi across the distance between them.

She nodded. "I will," she thought at the spirit. Kasumi was nothing if not dutiful.

"Go now, souson," the spirit said, and it seemed less close now, less comforting. "Remember that the ancestors are watching over you."

Kasumi was alone in the tiny cabin once again, and her great-grandfather's words held firmly in her young mind, she opened her senses. The wind was roaring, now, and the ship pitching violently back and forth, but she had learned to walk a rolling deck before she learned to walk dry land. She reached for the cabin door and hesitated. "Stay in the cabin, Kasumi," was what her father had said, but he had also said "honor and obey the ancestors". After a moment's indecision, she opened the door and stepped through.

The ship was pitching violently now, back and forth, back and forth, and the shouted commands of the boatswain on deck struggled to be heard amidst the howling winds. A sailor rushed past, nearly running down young Kasumi in his urgency as she stepped forth from her cabin. She resolved to be quick, and to be cautious.

She made it nearly to the ladder before she was spotted by another sailor, he clinging tightly to a fixture against the roll of the deck. There was a moment's recognition in his eyes, and then another moment an older Kasumi would have recognized as calculation, weighing the life of a ship's passenger and the daughter of the ship's master against his own danger. "Shōjo!" he called out, and loosed his death-grip on the wall.

Kasumi ran, leaping to the ladder with a rabbit-like grace born of youth and desperation and a brief lifetime as much spent between ports as in them. She made it to the top of the ladder just as the sailor's heavy footfalls reached the bottom, one tar-stained hand narrowly missing her ankle.

The sea was a roiling cauldron of sound and fury, the deck rail-slick and treacherous, the winds as unpredictable as they were swift. Below on the maindeck, sailors rushed to and fro, drenched by rain and spray, lowering the great ribbed sails and fastening lines, a carefully synchronized dance amid the chaos of the storm. On the upper deck stood the captain, a woman whose lined face spoke of years in wind and salt-spray. The captain wore a long coat of reinforced leather, and bore a long straight sword in the style of land-locked Ascalon. She had been an adventurer once, and fought pirates and monsters and seen dragons. Kasumi had heard the sailors say so. She had wanted to ask the captain what a dragon looked like. "Do not bother the captain, Kasumi," was what her father had said.

Beside the captain stood runners, waiting to carry her orders to the boatswain and sailors below. Beside the runners stood the wind master, his hands weaving in complicated gestures, his brow furrowed with strain, his face salt-drenched less from the storm than his losing battle to keep it at bay. A wind master was an elementalist who could create a wind for a becalmed ship. She could also summon lightning and thunder, and talk to fish, and make a wind so strong she could fly. The sailors had said so. Kasumi wanted to talk to fish too. "Do not bother the windmaster, Kasumi," her father had said.

The bow of the ship lurched downward as it struck a large wave, and the deck beneath her shuddered and groaned. "We need to flood the rear compartments!" That was what the captain shouted as Kasumi reached the top of the ladder. The other man beside the captain hesitated a moment. This man was dressed in fine silk, a faint glow betraying its enchantment against the ravages of the storm. Like the wind master, his hands were smooth and uncalloused, the mark of a merchant rather than a tradesman. It was his cargo in the rear compartments, bolts of silk and sealed clay jars of Canthan spices bound for the markets of Lion's Arch. It was his cargo in the front compartments as well, and in the compartments in between, for the man was the ship's master.

The man hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Do what you must to save the ship," he shouted, and at a gesture from the captain two of the runners released the rail and staggered for the relative safety of the below decks. The ship's master took a half step closer and clasped the captain's arm, drawing the latter close. "Do whatever you have to. My daughter is on board."

The captain shook her head, her face grim. "These waters are treacherous in the best weather. In this storm? Pray to the gods we spot a cove. If they do not answer, you can soon take it up with them in person."

A cove. That was what her great-grandfather's spirit had said. Great-grandfather had also sailed these waters in his youth, smuggling rice wine and tiger skins into the ports of Kryta. The ladder beneath her shook as the sailor below started to climb, and Kasumi darted forward, almost slipping on the rain-slick deck and buffeted by the winds, which seemed to come from every direction at once. She reached the captain just as a great wave crashed against the side of the vessel, washing over the high deck, and wrapped young arms around the captain for balance against the rushing water. The captain took a half step back at the unexpected embrace and looked down, her eyes wide in shock. "What are you doing, child?!" she shouted.

At this the ship's master looked back, and as another wave neared the ship dove forward onto his knees, wrapping young Kasumi in his arms against the torrent. "Kasumi! I told you to stay in the cabin!" That was what the ship's master, her father, said.

"Both of you need to get belowdecks, now!" the captain shouted over the wind.

Kasumi's eyes opened wide. "No! I promised sousofu! He said there is a cove! I promised!"

"You spoke to grandfather?" her father asked in shock.

Kasumi nodded solemnly. "I closed my eyes like mistress Quin taught me and focused, and great-grandfather spoke to me. He said there is a cove." She paused a moment, her face scrunched in concentration. "He said it was north, and close. But the compass will say west."

The captain nodded, once. "The straits of Malchor play havoc on lodestones." She looked with skepticism at the ship's master. "Does she speak with the ancestors often? She seems far too young." Kasumi's father shook his head, still holding her tightly, and the captain sighed into the wind. "If we hit a reef instead, we're going down. But if we stay out in the open we'll get battered to pieces. I'd rather meet the gods having tried than not." The captain paused another moment, then grabbed a runner and gestured at the five sailors in the stern, struggling to hold the rudder true. "New heading! Bring us about!"

The captain looked down at the ship's master and his daughter. "It's in the hands of the gods now. But your daughter may just have given us a chance."


	2. Awakening

_Location Unknown_

_Date Unknown_

Kasumi Mizushima awoke slowly to the faint call of songbirds. The first thing she noticed was darkness, all around her, deep as pitch and equally opaque. She closed her eyes and opened them, slowly, but the dark persisted. The second thing she noticed was cold, not the surface cold of a winter day but the kind of deep cold that seeps into the muscle and bone and grabs hold, tenaciously, until spring. Her body ached from the cold, and what felt like long disuse, and she shivered. The third thing she noticed was the soft whisper of silk, and through it the unyielding touch of stone, carved to mirror smoothness.

Smooth stone for a bed and thin silk for a mattress; no wonder she ached. Sleeping in her armor would have been kinder; she had many times on her long campaigns, in the mite-infested morass of Maguuma, the stone stillness of the petrified Echovald, the snowcapped peaks of the far Shiverpeaks. Cold. Now the Shiverpeaks, there was cold. Her armor, though, where was it? And the rest of her gear, trophies from the lich and the betrayer and the servants of the maddened god, paid for in blood, some of it hers. She remembered...something, an echo of a dream, a shadow of a memory. She had been offered a choice. What choice? How had she chosen? The memory slipped away; no matter. When she cleared away the sleep-haze from her mind, surely the rest would come back to her.

She raised up a hand, carefully, to check for obstacles in the darkness; no need to add a concussion to the fog of her long sleep. How long? The darkness gave no token, and she tucked away the question for now. Immediate problems first, answers later. She sat up carefully, wincing at the complaints of muscles long disused. There it was again, long. She knew it had been a long sleep, but she did not know how she knew. "Why do you believe what you believe?" That was was Headmaster Quin had said, back at the monastery. It felt like ages ago, a past lifetime, but then the monastery had felt like another lifetime since before the destroyers in the depths, before the journey into torment, before the affliction on the mainland. No matter; this lifetime or another, she had no answer, and the darkness was less than forthcoming.

The darkness. This was a battle she could fight. She closed her eyes and focused her mind, pushing back the lingering mental fog, and concentrated on the spirit world. "Spirits of the ancestors," she murmured, "grant me sight beyond sight," and the darkness exploded into colour. Vibrant reds, brilliant greens, stunning blues - as the spirit world was the source of life, so too was everything it touched made brighter, or darker, according to its nature. As a child, she would gaze into the near spirit realm for hours; today, she had a purpose. Anyone with the right connection, the right training, or the right mental state could gaze into the spirit world, but looking back out was more difficult. It seemed fitting, since it mirrored the journey of the spirit itself, the miracle of birth and rebirth and the ease of return into death. The door of the spirit world could open both ways, for a price.

This trick she had learned from a sunspear archer in Istan, a natural ritualist who used his second sight to hit the bulls-eye on a target at fifty yards while blindfolded. By turning the spirit sight upon itself, a ritualist could see the real world reflected in the spirit realm, reflected clearly enough to loose an arrow or dodge a sword. So simple that almost any ritualist could duplicate the feat once he or she learned it could be done, and yet in fifteen hundred years of history no Canthan had discovered it. She supposed that said something profound.

She had shared a few ales with that archer, and a few bedrolls beside. He was captured at the debacle at Gandara, and fed to their pet demons. Not the first she had lost, or the last, but she had not forgotten.

The darkness was no barrier to her now, and the cold stone on which she had lain resolved itself into a marble bier, smooth-topped but elaborately carved, and masterfully so, not the work of a simple tradesman. Her silk garments were of similar make, and in an unfamiliar cut. The rest of the chamber was small, though not claustrophobic, and looked to be worked stone of lesser quality than the marble, though similar workmanship. The chamber looked old; cracks netted the walls, and water stains pooled into a corner festooned with moss. The once-smooth stone tiles of the floor were broken and uneven, and what looked like the root of some great tree had forced its way through near the far ceiling; it seemed that was the source of the water stains. A single stone door faced the bier, sealed shut.

A tomb. She had been laying in a tomb. Kasumi shivered, and whispered a prayer to Grenth, hoping that the tomb was not hers.

So. There was water, hopefully potable, and the faint zephyr of a breeze on her cheeks suggested that the air would not grow stale. If she could not escape this place, she would not die quickly. Or well. If it came to that, she had learned a great deal about the art of death. Perhaps it would be fitting that her final battle be against herself. Best not to dwell upon it, for now.

The door was the obvious exit. Kasumi stood, ignoring the screams of protest from her legs, and felt the cold stone floor against her bare feet. That could be a problem. Brother Mhenlo always said that walking around barefoot was good for the soul. Brother Mhenlo thought he was funny. He was also a monk, and could call upon the gods for healing if he cut open his heel. Bleeding to death from a broken flagstone in some mouldering crypt, wouldn't that would be a fitting end to the hero of three continents. She supposed they would probably leave that part out of the stories.

Still, if this was a tomb, and these were burial robes - there, at the foot of the bier, a pair of wooden slippers, still serviceable. She slipped them on gingerly. Not a perfect fit, but manageable. One more crisis averted.

The door. She approached it cautiously, the clack clack of her new wooden slippers startlingly loud in the stillness of the tomb. Some burial grounds had traps, magical triggers or cunning mechanical contrivances to deter grave robbers and worse. No one wanted their loved ones to become some rogue necromancer's experiment. The door and the threshold seemed clear of unpleasant surprises; unfortunately, they also seemed clear of latches, hand-holds, or other such tools of entry or egress. Of course. Otherwise it would have been too easy. To be thorough, she ran her fingers along the edges of the door. Solid stone, with nowhere to gain purchase even had she the strength to move the door by main force.

That was disappointing, but if this was how her story ends then she was going to personally kick the gods all the way from the underworld to the hall of heroes. Well, there was still the source of that faint breeze. A few minutes searching around in the not-dark narrowed the latter down to a narrow opening around the tree's root intruding into her prison, perhaps a hands-breadth across and a foot in length, opening out into emptiness and surrounded by a spiderweb of cracked masonry. Now that she examined it closely, the root looked withered; perhaps it had once grown large enough to fill that hole.

At any rate she knew of no spell that could shrink her down to the size of her hand. For a moment Kasumi considered calling out. The far side of the hole was as dark as her de facto cell, though, and judging by the general state of disrepair it seemed unlikely that visitors were a common occurrence. And given her luck, anyone or anything that came was unlikely to be the rescuing sort.

Besides, she wasn't some blushing maiden princess from the old Krytan bedtime stories, some damsel in distress waiting in a tower for her prince to come rescue her. For that matter, she'd rescued more than her share of princes. She remembered one, a scholar-prince from Vabbi with a quick wit and a clever tongue, and colored faintly at the memory before returning her mind to the task at hand.

The root had not been gentle, forcing its way through the masonry, and the cracks in the wall were fairly extensive. Looking closely, the ceiling where the root had entered was in little better shape. If she did enough damage at the right point, it might open the hole enough for her to squeeze through. That or bring the whole ceiling down on her head, but the gods watch over those touched by madness, and Kasumi figured that idea qualified.

If only she had one of those explosive kegs that fool dwarf Budger always carried around - but no, she was going to have to do this the old-fashioned way. It wasn't going to be easy. Unlike the power of the elements, the energy of the spirit world was best used for subtle effects and conjurations, and ill-suited to the sort of whiz-bang-boom that the elementalists always seemed so proud of.

On the other hand, as the saying went, if resorting to magic doesn't solve your problem, then you didn't resort to enough of it, and Kasumi had power to burn. She stepped back carefully to the far corner of the room, then thought better of it and slipped into the threshold of the sealed door. As a final precaution, she tore a long hem from her robe and wrapped it about her eyes, tying it securely behind her head in case the collapse was larger than expected and let in some sunlight. Using one's first and second sight together was confusing at best, and at worst a swift path to madness. She tore a second, wider swatch and tied it about her nose and mouth. Whether it worked or not, this plan was going to make a lot of dust.

Her preparations complete, Kasumi closed her eyes and focused her mind once more, drawing the energy of the spirit realm through her chakras and into her hands, building like the closing movement of a symphony. As the power reached its crescendo she called out, "Spirits of the ancestors, let your arrows strike my foes!" and loosed the gathered energy as a flurry of ghostly bolts, erupting from her fingertips to strike the weakened stone with the force of a charging bull minotaur.

With a dull roar and an earsplitting crash, the tormented stone gave way in bulk, filling the far third of the room with rubble and the rest with a clattering hail of stone fragments and a sea of dust. Kasumi hissed as a flying shard glanced off her cheekbone, and gazed up at her handiwork, the dust no more a hindrance to her second sight than the darkness. It looked like fully a third of the ceiling had given way, opening not to a main chamber as she had hoped but what looked to be a cross passageway of some sort. Still, it was better than sitting in her tomb and waiting to starve.

Besides, the aforementioned listeners, were there any to hear, could hardly have missed her little remodeling project. With that happy thought in mind, she clambered up the pile of rubble and into the ruins.


	3. Meetings

This chapter is dedicated to cmaster16, the first (and hopefully not last) person to add my story to his or her Favorites.

* * *

Chapter 3 - Meetings

_Monastery Trail, Shing Jea Island, Cantha_  
_1576 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Phoenix_

Their names were Kisai and Mai, and like Kasumi, they had been accepted as novices to the legendary monastery at Shing Jea.

The two girls were in some ways a study in contrasts, and in others they could have passed for sisters. Each had the pale skin and close-cropped ebony hair common to mainlanders, and wore similar garb - tunics and long jute breeches, hiking boots in the Tyrian style, and woven straw hats against the glare of the summer sun. Each bore a carry sack with a few items of personal worth, and their chatter had the same slow, lilting tone of Kaineng's working quarters. Only the fine details of the face set the two apart, the slight upturn at the corner of Mai's lip and the faint crinkle of her almond eyes that spoke of frequent smiles, Kisai's softly bit lip and downcast gaze that looked everywhere but at the two other women sharing the trail shelter.

Yet if their portraits could have passed for sisters, in motion the two girls could not have been more different. Mai leaned casually against the wall of the shelter, almost perfectly still save to accentuate her conversation with languid gestures, performed with a smooth economy of motion. She reminded Kasumi of a hunting cat at ease, like the tiger she had once seen in the island's deep forests. Mai had felt no need to sit and rest after the long walk up into the mountains; with a hot surge of jealousy, Kasumi noticed that the other young woman didn't even seem winded. Kisai, in contrast, seemed full of nervous energy, even near-collapsed onto the rest bench beside Kasumi, and seemed constitutionally incapable of sitting still for more than a few seconds at a stretch.

"...and she was standing around the docks, carry sack in one hand and these hand-written instructions in the other, and she was looking around like a little lost kitten," Mai continued. Kisai's cheeks bloomed red in embarrassment, and Mai paused for a moment, then placed a reassuring hand on the other girl's shoulder. "I couldn't just leave her there. I mean, that's why we're all going to the monastery, right? So we can learn how to help people?"

Mai didn't wait for a response. "It turned out she was going the same place I was, even on the same ship. So we found the ship together, and talked the captain into letting us share a cabin, and we spent the whole journey talking. Well, most of it talking." Mai's face darkened in remembered anger, and a worn steel dagger appeared in her hand, pulled from some scabbard hidden in her tunic. "There was this one sailor who couldn't keep his hands to himself. Me, he learned not to bother real fast, but when I found out he'd been giving Kisai here grief, well. I told him that if I ever saw him near me or Kisai again, I'd cut off what he most valued, roast it, and feed it to him." Her face flashed a predatory grin. "And if he was really, really lucky I'd do it in that order."

Kasumi paled slightly at the threat, and the fierce countenance the other girl wore. It looked natural on her, and the dagger like an extension of her arm. Abruptly Mai laughed, breaking the sudden tension, and replaced the dagger whence it had come. "Anyway, he spent the rest of the voyage 'sea-sick' in the hold." She squeezed Kisai's shoulder again and smiled. "How ever did you get along without me?"

Kisai flushed, and leaned slightly toward the other girl. "My older sister, she always looked out for us. She is always so strong, and so brave. You're...brave, too." She flushed again, and suddenly Kasumi doubted that the other girl's feelings toward her new protecter were entirely sisterly. Kasumi shook her head to clear the thought away; either way it was hardly her concern.

Perhaps feeling that a handful of breaths was too long between conversations, Kisai turned her attention back to Kasumi. "So, you a local girl?"

Kasumi blinked at the directness of the question. "No, I am from Kaya prefecture. My family has-"

"I mean, you're an island girl, right? Not a mainlander?" Kisai didn't pause for an answer. "You've got that delicate look they talk about in the taverns. Although there's the hair..." She gestured vaguely at Kasumi's shoulder-length braids, slightly curled and hued a brilliant crimson. "I heard Ascalons have hair like that, some of them." She smiled conspiratorially. "Are you a secret outlander?"

Kasumi's brow was still furrowed, wondering what the other girl was doing in dockside taverns discussing the virtues of island girls, when the question brought her up with a start. She smiled; if nothing else the other girl's enthusiasm was infectious. "No, it's actually not uncommon on the island. They say that the original inhabitants of the island had hair the color of the autumn leaves. Every generation or two, someone's born into my family with red hair. The last one before me was my great-grandfather."

She paused briefly and bowed her head in remembrance. A thought struck her, and she suppressed a smirk. "They say that red hair is a sign of demonic powers. Maybe you should be careful, or I'll turn you into a sparkfly and feed you to a moa bird."

Kisai gasped, but Mai just narrowed her eyes and stared levelly at Kasumi. "Maybe I'm just a simple city girl to you, but I'm not stupid." Kasumi frowned, wondering if she had offended the other girl, when Mai grinned. "You're all right. I can't get Kisai here to tease me at all."

"So, what are you going to study at the monastery?" Again, Mai didn't wait for an answer. Kasumi suspected this would become a hallmark of their conversations. "Me, I'm going to be an assassin. Oh, don't be like that," she added hastily at Kasumi's horrified expression. "It's not like in the plays - well, some are like that. But I have a cousin, Nika, she is a member of a guild in Kaineng. They serve the empire when soldiers or diplomacy fail, and protect the people from corrupt guards and greedy ministers. That's what I want to do."

Kasumi frowned. "Is it really that bad, on the mainland?"

"Not everywhere. The merchants' districts, the ministry quarter, those are guarded well, as long as you're a merchant or in the ministry. Anywhere else - there's just too many people. So many refugees came from the south, after the jade wind, and they never left. Some places there are shacks piled up ten high, one on the next."

Kasumi's frown deepened. "Surely the empire can maintain order, though."

"The ministry troops are useless, corrupt, or both. The imperial guards are loyal but they can't be everywhere. There's parts as are run by gangs outright." Mai paused for breath. "Well. People need someone who will stand up for them."

Kisai smiled shyly. "You're so brave, Mai."

The latter girl flushed slightly. Interesting, what finally broke her composure. "Anyway. Tell our new friend what you want to study. No, wait! Better. Show her what you can do, what you showed me on the boat."

"Ship," Kasumi put in.

"What?"

"If it's big enough to travel to the mainland, it's a ship, not a boat." Abruptly Kasumi realised she had interrupted, and gave an apologetic smile.

Kisai was already concentrating, though, her petite brow furrowed with mental effort, her breath slow and measured. After a few moments, the air in the shelter started to tingle slightly, and there was a faint scent of ozone, like a distant thunderstorm without rain.

Kisai opened her eyes. "Pull her finger," Mai said with a smile. Kasumi frowned slightly. Was there a sly tone to the other girl's voice? No matter; she had heard the servant children playing this game, and it was harmless enough. With only a slight hesitation she reached out to meet Kisai's outstretched hand-

And with a sharp crackle a bright spark leapt from the other girl's hand. Kasumi loosed a sailor's oath and slid backward, or tried to, striking the back of the stone bench with considerable force. It hurt almost as much as her hand; although to be fair, her hand also had an odd twitch going for it. The tang of ozone was overlaid with the odor of singed flesh, and she suspected her hand would blister where the bolt had struck.

She scowled, and Kisai shied back, trying to stammer out an apology. Mai had the good grace to look abashed. "She can't control it very well yet. That was only supposed to jolt you a little bit. It's my fault. Promise you'll blame me, okay? Don't get mad at Kisai." Kasumi's scowl softened, and Mai smiled. "She's really quite talented, though. Don't you think? With a little training," and she put her hand back on the other girl's shoulder, "and maybe a little more confidence she'll be a great elementalist."

Kasumi grinned. "I probably had that coming for the demon magic bit." She gently patted Kisai's hand, and the other girl smiled shyly. "No real harm done. What's a little lightning between friends, right?"


	4. Carved Stone

**Just a friendly reminder – if you want to see more chapters, put up a review (or just say "Hi, I read this"). It's a lot easier to make time to write when it feels like someone else reads this. :)**

******~~~ Chapter 4: Carved Stone ~~~**

_Location Unknown  
Date Unknown_

Kasumi Mizushima stepped carefully down the long stone corridor, cracked flagstones shifting treacherously under her sandals. The darkness was still omnipresent, still impenetrable, but the air was fresher here. She hoped that meant she was nearing the surface. Her feet were beginning to ache; she had walked much farther, before, near walked the breadth of three continents, but that had been in proper boots. The heroes from the stories all wore traditional robes and sandals, no matter the weather or the terrain. Kasumi figured that either the storytellers had embellished a bit, or the heroes were idiots.****

At least this passageway hadn't ended in a collapse, or in a yawning fissure. With all of the backtracking she'd done, Kasumi wasn't sure she could find her cosy little tomb again. Not that she had any desire to revisit it, but she'd at least feel more confident that she wasn't wandering in hopeless circles.****

This corridor was new, she was certain. Mostly certain. It was wider than the ones before, with a vaulted ceiling, and walls carved into elaborate friezes. No, not carved - even in her spirit sight the walls held a faint, pearly luminescence. Krytan marble, then, imported at considerable effort and greater expense. Whoever had built this complex had been wealthy, and well connected. They clearly hadn't been back in a while, though. Even her impromptu remodelling project had gone unnoticed.****

A part of her was disappointed. As Jora used to say, there was nothing like a good fight to get the blood flowing. Used to say, now there was an interesting choice of words. She wondered, again, how long she had been asleep. Given the general state of disrepair-****

Roughly she pushed the thought aside. Spend her time worrying about such things and she'd starve down here. Wherever here was.****

She resumed walking, her fingertips trailing idly along the carved wall, then paused once more. Something about this frieze looked familiar, somehow. Most of it was worn near-smooth, eroded by some long-dried flow of water, but one scene was nearly untouched. The final moments of a battle, two men with swords outstretched, their points piercing the breast of a third man in a stylized royal guardsman's attire. Nearby, a figure lay in state, garbed in funereal robes and bearing the headdress of the emperor, the four envoys standing mute and solemn watch above.****

And upon the transfixed man's swirling cloak was the mark of the betrayer, the harbinger of the wicked. The guild symbol of Shiro Tagachi. So. This was the scene of the traitor assassin's downfall, struck down over the body of the emperor he had sworn to protect, the emperor he had cut down in cold blood.****

Scenes from Canthan history, then. Made sense, for a burial ground. Come to think of it, these carvings were about the only thing that did make sense here. They were impressively expensive, so where had the rest of the opulence gone? The altars were crumbling and empty of ceremonial offerings, the walls cracked and bare save for the eroding marble friezes. For that matter, the tomb complex was enormous. Even the family tombs of the old noble families were smaller than what she had already seen of this one. Few mausoleums were said to even approach this size: the Ascalon catacombs, destroyed by the searing; the old Krytan royal crypts, overgrown by the jungles; the ruins of the tombs of the primeval kings, swallowed by the desert-****

And the city of the dead beneath Raisu palace, resting place of Cantha's emperors. Hurriedly Kasumi knelt down and started sifting through the broken rubble at the base of the wall. If she was right, and she whispered a quick prayer asking for once to be wrong-****

There it was, mostly intact, a stele inscribed with the reign name of Emperor Angsiyan, whose reign was ended at the hands of his trusted bodyguard. So these were not simply scenes from Canthan history, but from the reigns of the Emperors, and this could only be the imperial tombs. A chill coursed down Kasumi's spine and lodged in her belly. The city of the dead could never have fallen into disrepair, not while the imperial line was intact, and certainly not have been looted and left to rot. Nor had damage she had seen been done quickly. Over decades, at the very least, and the Emperor had been in good health last she remembered.****

Last she remembered. What did she last remember? A series of fleeting images. Heading south and east from the icy northern Shiverpeaks into Charr-occupied northern Ascalon. Evading, bribing, and sometimes battling patrols, to reach- Where? Rin. The fallen capital, now a field of rubble. Why had she made that journey? Why could she not remember?****

And on top of her inner turmoil, now the chance that the entire empire had fallen while she was asleep. Figured. Save the world once and everything falls to pieces when you leave. Well, twice. Three times. Four. Five, if you counted that business with the civil war in Kryta. Anyway. Way she figured it, she'd more than earned a little rest. Then again, the world had never particularly cared what she thought.****

The air was definitely fresher here, at least. It shouldn't be too long before she had at least some of her answers.****

The long corridor came at last to an end, blocked by yet another ceiling collapse. Kasumi loosed a sailor's curse, then frowned. Pile of rubble notwithstanding, the corridor could not be blocked completely, or the air would be stagnant here. And there was definitely a whisper of a breeze, now, which meant there must be a passage. Whether it was large enough for her, of course, was another matter entirely, but- there. Right at the top of the collapse, nearly filled with chips of stone and bits of rubble. It would be a tight fit, but manageable.****

A few preparations first, though. Kasumi slipped off the silken burial robe and took it in both hands, then with a swift pull tore the left sleeve off at the shoulder. Another quick pull for the right, and then taking a sharp-edged stone from the rubble began to to cut through the liberated lengths of cloth. A few minutes effort and she had four roughly equal lengths of silk, which she wrapped carefully around her knees and elbows, and a bit of extra silk around her palms and the soles of her feet. Not enough to restrict her motion, but hopefully enough to protect against sharp edges in the rubble field. She looked ridiculous, but she hadn't lived this long by worrying about appearances. As it was, this was not going to be pleasant. As a final measure, she tore another strip from the hem of the robe and tied her sandals about her waist. She would likely need them on the other side.****

After all that, the climb was an anticlimax of sorts. The pile of rubble was more stable than she had feared and less deep than she had dared to hope, and cleaning the loose rubble from the top revealed a gap more than wide enough to permit her passage. She had a scare near the midpoint, her breath catching in her throat as her robe snagged on a particularly vicious spar of broken stone, but with a push and a wriggle she tore it free. A half-slide, half-scramble got her down the far slope and she was through, with only a few more cuts and bruises to mark her passage.****

It had definitely, Kasumi thought, been worth the effort. The ruin of the corridor's end gave way to a grand open chamber, circular in shape and ringed by columns, some fallen; judging from the patterns of rubble, one of these had struck and nearly sealed the corridor from which she had come. At the far end, nearly a third of the chamber had collapsed entirely, leaving a field of debris sloping up to twice her height and more- and past the top of it Kasumi could glimpse tree branches. The air was fresh, and she could smell sea spray from the nearby ocean and woodsmoke from the city below. There was a faint echo of birdsong.****

Freedom at last, and none too soon. Her stomach rumbled uncomfortably. She needed food, and some of the cuts she had acquired and hastily bandaged could use a monk's healing attentions. She took a step toward the de facto exit, and then paused. She had been here before, once. When?- Of course, the burial procession of Master Togo. Half of Cantha, it seemed, had come to pay their respects; certainly anyone who had studied at the monastery under his gentle guidance. Only a select few had been permitted to accompany the procession even this far into the crypts, to send their offerings for the departed at the imperial family's private shrines.****

Shrines. There were five, or perhaps now six, in sheltered niches arranged around the perimeter of the room. Freedom could wait; here was a chance to get some answers. The gods owed her that much.****

Two shrines had been buried by the collapse of the chamber's far end. Kasumi frowned. Simple decay could not have caused this much damage. Had some sort of catastrophe struck-****

There was a sound of grinding behind her, and Kasumi whirled around, reaching reflexively for her now-missing staff. There was nothing there, nothing but the jumbled stone of a toppled column- stone that was moving, now, pushed aside by a hand of carved rock, as broad as she was tall and inscribed with runes that glowed with mystical energy. An arm as thick as a tree's trunk followed, then with a great heave cast aside the collapsed rubble pinning down the creature's torso, a great slab of carved stone she had taken for yet more rubble, now with eldritch engravings flickering to fitful life. Another great heave and the fallen stone covering the creature's legs was tossed aside, landing with enough force to shake the ground and disturb the dust of gods knew how many years into choking clouds, and with a tortured grinding sound the creature stood.****

It was nearly three times her height, even in its hunched posture, with a great slab-like torso and arms that hung ponderously down to the broken flagstones. Arm, on a closer glance; the golem's entire left side had crumpled in from the fallen pillar. A lucky break, and one she needed. Badly. One solid hit and there would be splattered hero halfway across the courtyard.****

She'd have to make sure it didn't hit, then. Of course, that was assuming it was unfriendly-****

"IN-TRU-DER". So much for that. The damn construct sounded like a miniature avalanche, too. Fortunate that she wasn't expecting a lot of conversation from the thing. Not, come to think of it, that bringing the golem down would be much easier than chatting it up. Normally she left this sort of thing to people with more steel than brains, gods bless them. Of course, the rubble on the far side wasn't that far, and she doubted the golem was particularly agile. A bit of misdirection, a bit of luck, and she'd be out of the ruins before its arcane processors realised she had gone.****

The golem lurched into a ponderous charge, and Kasumi grinned. Run. Her. Damn golem didn't know who it was dealing with.


	5. Learning the Basics

**~~~ Chapter 5: Learning the Basics ~~~**

_Shing Jea Monastery, Shing Jea Island, Cantha  
1576 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Scion_

"What," asked the instructor in stentorian tones, "is magic?" There was a sudden bustle of activity as students still trickling into the lecture chamber scrambled to take out their ink and brushes. Careless of them, not to arrive early for their first lesson. The monastery taught more than mere spells and incantations, histories and tactics. One who expected to graduate must also master self-reliance, and the ability to be prepared for anything.

Kasumi sat cross-legged on her straw mat and smiled. Preparation was something her parents had drilled into her since she was very young. Merchants that did not prepare, that left port without studying their destination and bringing a cargo worth the voyage could lose everything. "Know your enemy and know yourself." That was what the ancient philosopher had said. As a merchant, her enemies would have been her competitors; as a hero, the enemies of the empire.

Here, at the monastery? Was it the instructors? Was it her fellow students? Kasumi did not know. She hoped it was not the latter. She looked around among the seated students for Kisai, and frowned. Perhaps there was another section- Ah, there she was, sitting hastily with a stammered apology to the instructor. No, she knew at least some of her fellow students were not her enemy.

The instructor stood at the front of the room, hands clasped in exaggerated patience, and waited for the stragglers to gather their materials. The rustle of students' robes and bags faded into quiet mere moments before the great gong signaled the formal beginning of the lesson. The instructor nodded once, slowly. In approval? Unlikely. An assessment, then, of the new crop of students. Kasumi frowned again. Surely they would not all be judged by the failings of a few.

"Thank you," the instructor said drily as the gong hummed into silence. "Welcome to Shing Jea Monastery. You have, of course, already been welcomed by your headmasters, and many of you have begun your formal studies in your chosen professions. Nonetheless, I always take this opportunity to welcome my students. This is a difficult road that you have chosen." The instructor walked his gaze across the assembled novitiates, giving each a moment in turn. "When next we meet, some of you will already have turned from that path."

"You will notice that your fellow novices may intend to follow professions different from yours. What, you may be asking yourselves, can a monk and a mesmerist learn together? What ties together the studies of elementalism and necromancy?" He paused a moment, for emphasis. "The answer, of course, is magic. Magic to heal the body and confuse the mind, magic to harness the elements and even raise the dead."

Silence fell.

"Good. When faced with a question you cannot answer, you admit to your ignorance. That is the first step towards wisdom. One answer to the question is this: magic is many things, to many people.

"So let me ask a different question. What is magic to you?"

Silence fell again, but after a long moment a young man with dark close-cropped hair rose and bowed to the instructor. "Magic is a gift from the gods," the young man said.

The instructor nodded. "Very good. Anyone else?"

A young woman stood and bowed. "Magic is truth amid illusion."

"Magic is the fifth element from which all other things are derived."

"Magic is the force that animates all living things."

Kasumi rose and bowed to the instructor. "Magic joins the worlds of the living and the dead."

The instructor held up a hand. "Magic is all of these things, and none." He paused for her to sit once more. "Many of you have studied the mystic arts before. Perhaps you found an old book, detailing the principles of elementalism. Perhaps you were tutored by a hedge necromancer or apprenticed to a travelling mesmerist. Perhaps you learned simple prayers of healing and protection. Let me be clear. This does not mean that you understand magic. To the contrary; before you can learn what I have to teach you, you must first unlearn."

_Shing Jea Monastery, Shing Jea Island, Cantha  
1576 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Colossus_

Wisps of steam rose and curled about as Kasumi eased slowly into the baths. The water was piping hot; barely short of scalding, actually, and imbued with a tingling effervescence that was both soothing and stimulating. Already she could feel the stiffness in her legs loosen. It had been too long since she had sat for hours in study. Judging from the groans of relief coming from some of the other students, she was hardly alone in that.

Or perhaps not. As Mai slid over to join her, she saw dark discolourations marring the other girl's limbs and torso - the precursors to deep bruises - and an atypical stiffness in her movements. Kasumi raised a quizzical eyebrow.

Mai sat silently for a long moment, letting the heat soak into overtaxed muscles. "We started training with the warrior students today," she said in answer to the first girl's unspoken question. She did not open her eyes. "They had wooden practice swords. We did not."

Kasumi frowned. That hardly seemed fair.

"'The warrior students must practice their skill at hitting elusive targets. You require skill at evading attacks.'" She quoted with only a hint of resentment, or perhaps simple frustration. "'As two blades working together can accomplish more than either alone, two problems in isolation can resolve into a unified whole. That is your first lesson for today.'"

It made sense, of course. Better to learn those skills now with wooden weapons than against real foes in anger. Still, the results seemed rather...unpleasant for those on the receiving end. She frowned. Surely the monastery had healers, once the lesson was over.

"And, of course, the resulting injuries were good practice for the novice monks to apply their healing prayers." Mai winced. "With varying degrees of success."

Quite deliberate, of that Kasumi was certain. Seeing the lingering pain of their charges would inspire the novices to redouble their studies, and motivate the assassin students to be quicker in their next sparring match as well. Lessons inside of lessons. She was beginning to understand why graduates of the monastery were so highly regarded.

A slender foot dipped into the springs beside Mai, then hastily withdrew. "Ow, hot," complained Kisai. "How can you two stand to soak in this?"

Kasumi lifted her eyebrows. "You have never been to a hot spring before?"

"Mainland girl, remember? No room for springs in the city. The best we could do was a barrel of rainwater." She knelt down at the water's edge and poked at the spring with a cautious finger. "There are some to the south, of course, where the rich merchants and ministers go on holiday. Not people like us, of course."

"Too close to the vassal states for me, though," Mai put in. "Even if we ever had the money. They're savages, you know. The luxons will cut your throat as soon as look at you, and the kurzicks are mad from living in their stone forest all these years. Everyone says the only reason they don't attack us is because they're too busy fighting each other."

Kisai paled. "Do you really think so?" She paused a moment in thought, then shook her head. "Some of the other students are from the vassal states. They seemed nice to me."

Mai frowned. "Perhaps...no, you are right." She patted Kisai's foot. "I was too quick to judge."

The other girl smiled shyly, and tried dipping her foot in the spring again. She jumped back again with a curse. "You must be boiling alive in this."

Kasumi leaned back. "Well, if it's too hot for you, why don't you cool it down? You are an elementalist, right? Fire and water."

"Why didn't I think of that?" Kisai's face lit up, and as quickly fell again. "But we're not supposed to use magic without supervision."

"You're not by yourself," Kasumi pointed out. "You're with us. Mai and I will keep an eye on you."

Mai elbowed her in the ribs. "That's not what they meant and you know it. The instructors don't want someone getting hurt."

"It's a simple cooling spell. No one's going to get hurt."

Mai's frown remained. "The rules are there for a reason."

"How do they expect us to learn, if we are not allowed to practice? You do want to learn elemental magic, right?"

"Well, yes..." Kisai frowned. "It still doesn't seem right."

"One little spell won't hurt anyone. But if you're not sure you can do it, it's okay."

Kisai stood silently for a long moment. "I do need to practice. And it's just one little spell. Right?"

She knelt down at the edge of the baths and traced the sigil for "cold" in the condensation on the stone at the water's edge, closed her eyes, and began to focus her will. For a long moment nothing seemed to happen; then Kasumi noticed a thin mist forming and flowing from the water's edge, not the wispy steam of the baths but a chill vapor, like the fog that formed over a warm lake on a cold morning.

"See, you're doing it," she said with an encouraging smile, and then yelped as a tendril of icy water snaked its way to her unsuspecting leg. "Don't overdo it." She sidled quickly away, bumping into Mai-

Mai, whose face still held anger over Kasumi's manipulation. She supposed the other girl had a point, but wasn't particularly in the mood for a lecture. She glanced back over at Kisai, an apology forming on her lips, and then swallowed it as she saw the young elementalist's expression. She, too, was looking at Kasumi, but with something more akin to...jealousy, perhaps? No, looking at Kasumi and Mai, so close together.

Getting out of that talking-to would be as easy as distracting Mai. In her mind Kasumi smiled, careful not to let it show on her face, and stood. "I'm heading back early-" She caught a flash of guilt on Kisai's face. "No, it's not your fault. I need to study." She lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, and leaned in to Kisai's shoulder as the other girl slid into the baths. "She's all yours."

A strong but slender hand shook Kasumi awake, none too gently. She awakened with a start and opened her eyes to see Mai's face bare inches above her.

"I saw what you did to Kisai earlier. Toying with her like that. Let me be clear - you ever do that again, we're through. She and I will go our own way. Understood?"

Kasumi blinked, then nodded. The iron hand on her shoulder did not relent.

"I also saw what you did to me. Just because we're not fancy merchant girls like you doesn't mean we're stupid. Maybe you think the rules aren't for you, but people like us, we learned to keep our heads down. She looks up to you, you know. Trusts you. If you get her in trouble, you and I are going to have more than words."

Kasumi forced her blurry eyes into focus. The other girl's glare was sharper than her daggers. Although...Kasumi didn't remember seeing that mark on Mai's neck in the baths. Mai followed her gaze, and even in the dim light Kasumi could see her cheeks burn. Mai removed her hand and stood.

"And if you ever toy with her feelings again, if you hurt her, I will make you pay."


	6. A Rock and a Hard Place

**~~~ Chapter 6: A Rock and a Hard Place ~~~**

_Raisu Palace Ruins, Kaineng City, Cantha  
Date Unknown_

Kasumi Mizushima dove to the broken flagstones, feeling a rush of air as the oversized golem's stone fist blew past her like a ballista bolt. She had to admit that she was impressed. Any one of Oola's golems would have crumpled long before under the punishment she'd delivered - for that matter, under the damage it had taken when the column had fallen upon it. And Oola was the greatest golemancer of her time - according to Oola, of course, but what Kasumi had seen of her lab tended to back up the diminutive asura's boasts. They'd certainly weathered the destroyer assault well enough, back- when? A dull boom sounded as the golem's momentum carried it into the chamber's far wall. Right. Not exactly the time for woolgathering.

At least this golem wasn't any smarter than the original models. She stumbled back to her feet, ignoring the fresh trickle of blood from her knees. The golem could keep this up all day. If she didn't come up with a better plan soon, she'd be in real trouble. She watched closely as the golem rose to its feet again. She'd finally cracked the thing's stone shell, enough to see the glow of its inner cognitive capacitance engine glimmer from the damaged torso, and had hoped one last barrage might shut the thing down. She wasn't that lucky, of course. As the golem turned back her way, she saw chips and breaks from her spirit arrows all across the construct's flank, but none close enough to widen the crack, let alone punch through.

For a moment, she wished her talents had been in elementalism. Kisai would have reduced this oversized wind-up toy to powder by now. A ritualist like her wasn't really made for throwing raw power around. If she had a staff or spear, now, she could empower it, or with a pinch of ash she could invoke the strength of a great ancestor or fallen hero, but alone, with no tools and no preparation? She was fighting with a bigger handicap than the half-broken golem.

Fallen heroes. For a moment Kasumi wondered if anyone had tried invoking her.

The golem had managed to extricate itself, now, from the wreck of the wall it had crashed into, and began lumbering back her way. She had the construct's pattern, now. Three swings, a feint backward, and then a charge like a one-golem avalanche. The charge was her opportunity, assuming she could figure out what to do with it. She couldn't keep chipping away at it with her bolts; she'd run out of luck before the golem ran out of armor. That cracked casing was her best shot, but the only way she'd be able to blast through with enough precision would be at point blank range.

That close, she'd only get one shot. Miss, and the golem wouldn't.

The golem lurched forward, now, throwing its remaining arm into a crude swing, and Kasumi jumped backward, hoping not to trip on a broken flagstone. She'd have time to get up again before the construct hit, probably, but she didn't particularly want to test that theory. Yes, the cracked casing was definitely the key, but how-

Her heel caught a fragment of broken stone, and she went down, hard. A jolt of agony shot up her arm to join the chorus of pains already clamoring for her attention. Yes, she didn't have much longer at all. The golem's fist fell like a meteor, and she rolled hastily to the side and into a crouch, shielding her face against a hail of stone fragments as the construct crushed yet another hole in the flagstones. She smiled grimly. If nothing else, there'd be nowhere left to stand.

Her hand closed around a palm-sized fragment of stone, and she grasped it tightly as she scrambled to her feet. Useless, of course, against the golem's stone armor, but she might be able to distract it long enough to make a run for the sloped rubble leading out of the ruins. Maybe. On the other hand, golems tended to be rather single minded.

Useless after all, then, unless- It was technically a weapon. And a ritualist had magic to empower weapons, even ones as crude as this. She hoped. It wouldn't have enough accuracy to do any real damage, of course, but she could give it enough force to stagger the construct, maybe even knock it down at the right moment.

It was a desperate gambit, if admittedly clever, and decidedly undignified to boot. Kasumi privately resolved that, assuming the plan worked, she would leave out the bit where the great hero had resorted to throwing rocks at her enemies.

The golem swung again and she stepped hastily to the side. One more swing, the feint, and then the charge- Of course. If she used that force not to slow the charge, but to amplify it after the construct had passed, it might buy her a few seconds. Not enough time to get out of the ruined gallery, not in her condition. But then, she had no intention of running.

Kasumi dropped to the ground again as the third swing came, narrowly missing her trailing braid. She'd forgotten how much of a liability those could be, hand to hand, but then she hadn't needed to get that close to her foes in ages. That was what warriors were for. She smiled darkly. Warriors, and other things.

She stayed low as the golem made its feint backward, and dipped her fingers into the slow stream of blood down her thigh. Now she just needed- there, a flagstone, mostly intact, easily within reach and large enough for the sigil she needed. Three quick swipes for the circle, a few narrower lines for shaping the magical energies, another, smaller rune inside to define the effect, and done.

With no time to spare, as the golem was already lumbering into its charge. "Spirits of the ancestors, empower my blade," she hissed, daubing more of her blood onto the grasped stone, and half-stood, half-lunged into a crouching roll, skinning her knees again as the construct roared past, giving her a perfect shot at its broad stone back. She shouted to focus her ki, and with an instant of heartfelt mental prayer hurled her improvised missile, now glowing with a brilliant azure aura. She felt rather than heard the impact, and saw the already off-balance construct careen forward into one of the gallery's carved altars, dislodging the great stone statue above into a slow fall and a ponderous crash atop the hapless golem.

Kasumi whispered another quick prayer, this one of apology, and wondered for a moment whether her plan had worked better than she had hoped- No, that grinding of stone meant the golem was merely pinned, and would no doubt free itself in moments. But then, those were moments the construct no longer had. Kasumi knelt again at her blood sigil, undisturbed by the golem's passage save for a fine dusting of powdered stone, and focused her will.

This wasn't ritual magic, of course. In a way, it was ironic that the asura, one of whom had no doubt built the towering guardian construct, had also taught her the key to its destruction. This spell had no incantation; asura magic was mathematical in essence, not spiritual, for all it drew on the same currents and eddies of the spirit world. The asura believed in their eternal alchemy, not in the gods of the human nations. Of course, that meant that they limited themselves to summoning creatures of the natural world, great beasts and elementals. Kasumi had no such qualms.

The grinding and shifting of stone from the golem's rocky snare rumbled to a crescendo as a faint shimmer appeared in the air above Kasumi's blood sigil, sickly green in color and becoming as rapidly more substantial as it was growing in size. She stood and stepped backward, hastily. Not even the asura knew what happened to a summoner caught in her own portal. Within the spirit gate a great and dark form was taking shape, and chill mist began to pour from the opening between worlds, covering the flagstones with a dense graveyard fog. With a final splintering crash the golem freed itself from the wreck of the shrine, and with a static-filled roar of "IN-TRU-DER DIE" launched itself at Kasumi-

And with a bellowing roar that echoed off the ruins, Kasumi's monster stepped forth to meet the golem's charge. It had the shape of a bull but walked on two legs like a man, jet black, with great spurs of glistening obsidian jutting from its skull, its spine, and its wickedly edged forelimbs. It was a minotaur as envisioned through a mad priest's nightmare: a bladed aatxe, one of the most feared denizens of the underworld. Hers to command.

The two titans clashed with a blow that shook the stones under her feet. Unexpectedly, Kasumi's knees buckled, and she struggled to maintain her focus. Lose the summoning spell, and the golem would pulp her; lose the binding controlling the aatxe demon, and it would be a race. She grimaced. Well rested, without injuries, she could maintain these spells indefinitely, but between the fatigue, the blood loss, and the mental strain of the magic she had already expended-

Well. She had better finish this, fast, or it was going to finish her. She stood once more and ducked behind a broken length of pillar to watch the battle. The two were closely matched, although the aatxe seemed to have the upper hand, for now. Its gleaming obsidian blades splintered deep gashes out of the golem's stone casing, but she felt the demon's pain and rage rising with each sledgehammer blow the construct delivered it. Sooner rather than later it was going to break her control, and the golem was still going strong.

The crack in the golem's casing was widened, at least, though not enough to deliver a barrage through, not at this distance. For a moment she wished for tighter control over her pet demon - Enough to target the construct's newfound weak point, or to guard her long enough to approach within killing distance. A stronger binding took time and magic, though, and she didn't particularly care to free the demon while she re-cast. In addition to their terrifying strength and natural weaponry, aatxe were frighteningly intelligent, known to wait in ambush for hours or spend entire days stalking uninvited visitors to the underworld. And she'd ripped this one from its home and overpowered its will with brute magical force. Somehow she suspected it would hold a grudge. For a moment, Kasumi wondered if she had cleverly managed to replace one life-threatening crisis with two.

She was reasonably safe from both as long as the bindings held, at least. The aatxe could not attack her, and she could give it a few rudimentary commands. "Hold" might extend the bindings a few precious seconds, but the golem would have free rein, and "attack" was proving more or less futile-

Or she could command it to charge. The golem was top-heavy and unstable, and she'd seen a minotaur calf bowl over a warrior in full plate, twice its height and easily triple its weight. And aatxe were bigger, stronger, and meaner. All it needed was a good head start. Mentally, she ordered the demon to stand still, and grabbing another broken stone by her feet she lobbed it at the golem with a shout.

Yes, she was definitely leaving the rocks out of her memoirs.

The construct took one last desultory swipe at the now-passive aatxe then turned to face her, its battered arcane circuitry recognizing a chance to finally crush this persistent intruder into a bloody pulp. It started forward unsteadily, damaged left side visibly dragging, and Kasumi counted its lumbering footsteps, feeling a faint echo of dark glee rebounding from the mental link to her bound demon. A few steps more, and- she felt the demon's resistance redouble as it saw her doom approaching, but with a burst of will overpowered it once more. Cheated of its revenge, the demon loosed an unearthly howl, and as the golem turned once more the aatxe launched into a charge, tossing its great obsidian horns and sending the construct sprawling to the ground with an earth-shaking crash-

And as the flagstones rumbled beneath her feet Kasumi leapt into motion, dismissing both the binding and summoning spells and marshalling the last of her magical reserves into a single burst of power. "Spirits of the ancestors, let your arrows strike my foes!" she shouted, and as the demon faded back into emptiness she jumped high onto the fallen construct's broken body, her hand outstretched over, onto, into the great gash in its stone armor, and loosed a volley of spirit bolts directly into its unprotected cognitive capacitors.

For an instant every crack and joint in the battered golem glowed with a brilliant azure light. A heartbeat later, the blast hit her like a blow from a great hand and launched her high into the air. She felt rather than heard the concussion. She was dimly aware of a feeling of falling, a nauseating spin, a floating amid razor shards of stone armor and fragments of crystal circuitry.

And then the ground rushed up to meet her and there was blackness.


	7. Tools of the Trade

**~~~ Chapter 7: Tools of the Trade ~~~**

_Shing Jea Monastery, Shing Jea Island, Cantha  
1576 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Colossus_

"A mage's weapon is more than merely an instrument of destruction. It is her companion, her protector, the one friend on which she can rely when all others have forsaken her. It is the mark of her authority, of her mastery over the arcane arts." Artificer Hiroyuki paused. "And when all else fails, you can bash someone over the head with it."

There were titters from the assembled students, and the artificer waited for the class to quiet before continuing his lecture. "Each of you in your studies has learned the basics of magic and the tenets of your respective professions. You have sensed magic, shaped it, channeled it, forged it through discipline and strength of will. Today, you will learn to wield the tools of my craft, and through them to amplify the strength and precision of your spells.

"There are three traditional weapons a mage can wield to empower his or her own abilities. The simplest of these, and the one with which you will learn attunement today, is the wand or scepter. To the uninitiated, a simple wand can appear as little more than a branch, a cudgel, or piece of driftwood. To a practitioner of magic, however, it is an invaluable asset. As you will discover, an attuned wand grants its user a marked increase in his or her control over arcane energies. Simply put, a mage bearing a wand, and channeling his or her spells through that implement, can cast spells with a far greater precision, both in the specificity of the result and the complexity of the effect created. In the creation of subtle or precise magics, a wand is a mage's greatest ally.

"For all but the most delicate work, a wand is typically paired with a focus. These are typically held in a mage's off hand, and can be crafted from wood, from bone, from stone, or from virtually any material depending on the desired magical affinities. As a wand grants its user precision, a focus enhances its wielder's raw power. There is, as in all things, a trade-off between these two virtues. A mage with a focus alone can channel more sheer energy, but rarely with sufficient control to be useful. A scepter and focus together will grant a mage a balanced increase in both power and precision, with a matched set minimising the impedance between the two tools."

The artificer gestured toward the racks of waiting scepters at the side of the class hall. "Today, you will practice attuning to these simple wands, and using them to channel the raw energies of your respective disciplines. Until you have mastered their use, you will not be issued foci, in order to minimise the danger to yourselves and to each other. Even for the most astute students among you, that will not be this session, or this week. For today, successfully channeling energy through your practice wand will be an achievement."

A student rose and bowed to the artificer. "Respected instructor, you mentioned three weapons. Would the third weapon be a mage's staff?"

Artificer Hiroyuki nodded. "That is correct. Where a scepter grants precision, and a focus grants power, a mage wielding a staff gains power of a different sort. Magic cast through a properly attuned staff can take effect in a wider area, last for significantly longer, and so on. Comparing a staff and a focus, one could say that the former augments the scale of your magic, and the latter the intensity of your spells."

Another student rose and bowed. "Instructor, if that is true, why do not all mages carry staves?"

The artificer looked about the room for a moment. "That is an excellent question. Do any of you know the answer?"

A student rose, her novice robes emblazoned with the viridian skull of a necromancer. She bowed deeply. "A staff is large and unwieldy. Not everyone has need of its strength."

"Very good. Anyone else?"

A novice monk stood. "In healing, too much of a beneficial force can be just as harmful as the disease or injury." She paused, and the artificer raised an eyebrow. "Er, that is to say. Too much strength isn't always helpful."

"Correct." The young monk sat hastily. "Anyone else?"

The class was silent for a long moment, then a young elementalist stood. "Forgive me, master, but I do not understand. In battle, does not the stronger mage prevail?"

Kasumi nodded to herself, slightly, but the artificer shook his head. "This is not the place for a discussion of tactics; suffice it to say, for now, that strength is but one path to victory. Consider this, however. In a mixed company, the wielders of magic are sheltered by the bearers of steel. I suggest you think carefully on how long an armored warrior will continue to hold back your enemies while your bursts of stone or eruptions of flame are falling around him."

The chastened elementalist sat, wordless, and the artificer smiled. "In one sense, however, you are right. The choice to bear a staff has its advantages, as well as limitations." The artificer extended a hand before him and raised it toward the ceiling. "The staff possesses the virtue of strength." He turned his arm downward and to the left. "The scepter grants the virtue of precision." His arm stayed low and shifted to the right. "The focus bestows upon its wielder the virtue of power."

The artificer finished the circle, then returned his arm to his side. "Each spellcaster possesses a differing balance of these three virtues. Some will choose a weapon that augments their strengths. Others will choose a weapon to balance out their limitations. And, of course, different situations will call for different responses. If any of these weapons was always superior to the others, there would be no need to make this choice at all."

"Today, of course, there is no choice to be made. We will begin with wands, both because they are the simplest to master and because they are the least dangerous during the learning process. All stand." There was a loud rustling as the class got to its collective feet. "In class order, take a scepter from the weapons rack and proceed to the practice field. There is no need to deliberate over which to select; all are simple carved wood, with no affinities for profession or discipline."

Kasumi dutifully walked to her place near the front of the line and looked skeptically at the rows of wooden scepters. She supposed she understood the logic of starting with the simpler weapons, especially for the more average students, but she felt a tinge of frustration at wasting time on lesser tools instead of starting directly with a proper staff. At least she would not have long to wait; only three students stood ahead of her in the class order: an exceptionally gifted novice monk, a bookish necromancer, and of course the class lead, a mesmer autodidact that put her (her!) to shame.

In the corner of her eye she could see Mai take her own place just ahead of the line's midpoint, and frowned. She wasn't sure her tutoring was doing the other girl any good; not, granted, that there was overmuch a ritualist could explain about elementalism. Still, based on her raw power alone the other novice should have been far higher in her ranking, perhaps even right behind Kasumi herself.

Of course, power meant nothing without the will to use it.

It was her turn to select a wand, and despite the artificer's warning she took a moment to consider the assortment on the racks before her. A series of lumpy, misshapen lengths of wood, roughly equal in dimension and general unsightliness. Hardly the elegant weapon of a cultured ritualist. Still, Kasumi supposed even she had to start somewhere. She picked up a scepter that looked less uneven than most and followed the others out of the artificer's workshop and into the monastery's central courtyard.

Even after half a year's study, the monastery was an impressive sight. Lecture halls, classrooms, and workshops lined the sides of the courtyard, built in the traditional island style, with curved-up roofs tiled in smoky green ceramic and supported by wooden beams painted a brilliant cinnabar said to bring good fortune to those living within. Looming above were the walls of the monastery vale, great bastions of forbidding stone, their summits streaked with white snow.

Some of the other students were shivering in the cold, and Kasumi smiled. Compared to her family's estate in the bluffs above Seiting harbor, the monastery was practically balmy.

Fortunately for her fellows, the practice field was close to the artificer's workshops; unfortunately for them, it was also outdoors, and near to the great precipice that fell towards the bay below. Lacking the surrounding shelter of the vale walls, subject to powerful and unpredictable winds blowing off the Sea of Cantha, winter practice was a mental and physical trial in more ways than one. Despite herself, Kasumi shivered slightly, and scowled at her body's betrayal. It wouldn't to do show such obvious signs of weakness in front of the instructor, let alone her fellow students.

There was a class of warrior students already at the field, sparring with wooden practice swords and wearing chain armor; despite the cold, she could see wisps of steam rising from the intensity of their efforts. For a moment Kasumi felt a touch of envy. Warriors often worked as sell-swords and bodyguards, fighting assassins and brigands on the front line against the forces of disorder and disharmony. A professional ritualist, on the other hand-

She shook her head, clearing the errant thought from her mind. Exciting lives, yes, but all too often short ones as well, and while she was ready to lay her life down for the Empire she wasn't in any particular hurry. No, better to let herself enjoy the quiet life of a travelling merchant and scholar. She was sure to find a little excitement of her own along the way.

Kasumi adjusted her grip on the scepter once more as the row of students ahead of her bowed in unison to the instructor and began to file past. Every spellcaster who graduated from the monastery had mastered the weapon's use; for that matter, virtually every half-competent hedge mage and conjurer had managed the same without the same benefits of formal tutelage. It couldn't be that difficult. And yet, perhaps one or two students from each cohort had so far managed to coax any energy whatsoever from their wands. She wasn't concerned, of course, but this was a gold-gilded opportunity to set herself apart from the other students, and she had no intention of letting it go to waste.

"Next row, step forward." The instructor was waiting off to the side, although given her classmates' dismal record Kasumi thought the precaution was likely unnecessary. "Scepters at your sides. At my command, you will raise the wands and aim them straight ahead, but do not attempt to channel magic." He waited a few moments for the students' acknowledgement. "Scepters ready. You should begin to concentrate now. Clear your mind of distractions. Feel the scepter in your hand, its resonance with your magic. Make it an extension of your arm."

Kasumi raised her wand to chest height and began to focus her inner eye, to feel her connection to the spirit world and siphon from it the raw magical energy she would loose through the scepter. She could feel the scepter in her hand, the chill wind slicing through her robes, the gathered energy tingling in her arm like a crouching tiger waiting to spring onto its unsuspecting prey. "Cast!", the instructor called out, and Kasumi released that energy through the pathway between her inner eye and her weapon-

Nothing happened. Kasumi stood silently for a long moment, feeling her gathered energy dissipate back into the ether, and wondered what she could have gotten wrong. At least, she thought bitterly, none of the other students in her group had any more success. Abruptly there was a flash of light and a report like a tree bursting in a freeze, and Kasumi looked over to see Kisai drop her scepter as if it were suddenly a venomous serpent. "Good, but remember to control the amount of energy you use. Too much magic can be dangerous, both to the caster and to his or her allies."

She caught up with Kisai as the class was filing out of the workshop once more. "Hey," Kasumi said softly as if half afraid how the other girl would respond.

Kisai turned, flashing a bright smile. "Kasumi!" Her smile began to fade at Kasumi's serious expression. "Oh. You are still mad at us, then?" Kasumi blinked. "I heard about your fight with Mai. She didn't hurt you, did she? I know she can be really intense." Kisai's face abruptly flushed, and Kasumi smiled.

"No, nothing like that. We just had an argument."

"But you've been avoiding us these last couple of weeks. Hurrying away from classes, hiding away in your room."

Kasumi reached out and took the other girl's hand. "No, nothing like that. I've just been busy. Studying." Judging by her skeptical expression, Kisai seemed less than entirely convinced, but she smiled again, apparently willing to let the matter rest. "So tell me. Did you get your scepter to work?"

Kisai flushed again. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to use so much magic. It just sort of came out."

Kasumi petted her hand reassuringly. "It's okay, really. You did really well. Most people couldn't use the scepters at all." Kisai smiled again, shyly, and Kasumi paused to hide a grimace. She knew what she had to say, but even spoken to her friend the words tasted like ashes. "Actually...do you think you could show me?"


	8. Servants of the Gods

**~~~ Chapter 8: Servants of the Gods ~~~**

_Location Unknown  
Date Unknown_

Kasumi Mizushima awoke slowly, feeling the reassuring firmness of a proper bamboo mattress through the bed's padding. There was incense in the air, faint but pervasive, and she could hear a low chanting from somewhere close by. It was bright, even with her eyes closed, a warm and steady radiance. Sunlight, perhaps? She opened her eyes, cautiously, and looked around.

A small chamber, though not a spartan one. Her bed was lined with sheets of Elonian cotton, threadbare but well cared for, and ringed on three sides with red sandalwood carved in a geometric lattice. The floor was sturdy bamboo, well worn and meticulously cleaned; the walls treated wood, sanded to near smoothness. Sunlight poured through the open window. Opposite the bed stood a writing desk in the traditional style; on it she could see an inkwell, a bottle of calligraphy ink, midnight black, and a set of brushes, neatly arranged by size and stiffness of bristle. On a low table beside the desk was a pile of scrolls, rice paper backed with vellum.

A scholar's bedroom and study, then, and one with a curious juxtaposition of luxury and minimalism. She sat up, carefully, and frowned at the complete absence of pain. She'd been pretty beat up, even before the golem, from her sojourn through the ruins. And when the golem exploded- Kasumi shook her head. She was lucky to have survived that particular miscalculation. It seemed the gods still watched over her after all.

The gods owed her that much, and more. Starting with some answers.

At any rate, she wasn't going to find those answers lying in bed. She stood, walked to the panelled sliding door, and- It rattled, but remained firmly in place. Kasumi blinked in confusion. Was there some clever latch, like the Ascalons were fond of using with those impractical swinging doors? Not that she could see, and- There. Yes, the door was definitely secured from the other side. She was beginning to grow tired of waking up in sealed rooms.

Well, nominally sealed. She walked over to the window. Apparently the room overlooked a small crop garden, carefully tended rows of some unrecognized grain. Sorghum, maybe, or millet. Or maybe not; somehow in all her travels she'd never quite gotten around to learning agriculture. Hadn't gotten her killed yet.

Although in retrospect, a little crop knowledge probably could have told her the season, at least. Missed opportunities.

The garden was useless, then. The window, not so much. No latch, let alone bars or other fixtures. A completely unsecured window. On the first floor. Whoever was responsible for locking her in here clearly wasn't very good at their job. Assuming it was their job to begin with - this wasn't exactly a cell, after all. Maybe someone was improvising. Badly.

Kasumi decided to wait for her hapless captor to show his or her hand. It might be an opportunity for some answers. Failing that, she rather doubted she would have any serious difficulty leaving, with or without a head start. Besides, she suspected she'd actually feel bad about just walking out. Whoever had set this up had clearly put some effort into it all, and it seemed churlish to disappoint them.

In the mean time, it looked like she had some waiting to do. She stepped back over to the desk, and-

The door rattled, and she turned as it slid smoothly open, revealing a man in what looked vaguely like cleric's robes. A devotee of Dwayna, judging by the blue trim and saffron threading, although the cut was unfamiliar. Not to mention unflattering; on second thought, not mentioning unflattering was probably a wise decision anyway.

At least he made an effort to look friendly. "I see that you're finally awake." His tone was warm, if a bit gravelly, and Kasumi thought she noted more than a hint of barely concealed strain in his voice and an unaccounted tightness amid the age-worn lines of his face. The friendliness wasn't entirely an act, but he was hiding something. "You've been asleep for three days. How do you feel?"

Three days? Not unheard of, for a deep healing, but not exactly common either. Still, those words at least rang with honesty, and Kasumi managed a smile. "Better than I would have, I'm sure." She stretched her arms experimentally. "I assume I have you to thank for not waking up in the underworld."

The monk harrumphed. "Impressive collection of scars you have, young lady. I take it this is not the first time you have woken in a healer's care."

True, although waking in a warm bed had added a pleasant bit of novelty to the procedure. Kasumi shrugged fractionally. "I've had worse."

The monk raised an eyebrow. "Worse than how I found you? The gods must watch over you to have survived such a thing."

"I have...had some highly skilled companions. Enough so to get me through a few close calls." All but one, of course. Kasumi unconsciously traced a line from thigh to breastbone, scarred by the betrayer's spirit blade in the courthouse square. That time, all the healers in Cantha could not have made a difference. Yet the envoys sent her back to wage war on one of their own.

Just as well. Twice she'd walked the underworld in the service of Grenth. She wasn't particularly eager to return as an inmate.

And on that note...Kasumi bowed deeply. "Thank you, respected monk, for your aid. I fear I have nothing but questions to offer in thanks."

The monk chuckled. "Age before beauty, I fear. Tell me, what were you doing in the ruins?"

He was direct, at least, but the strain was definitely back in his voice. Had she violated some taboo, perhaps? Wasn't exactly her fault, of course, but she'd learned that cool logic tended to be of little use when stepping on other people's superstitions. "I got lost," she said finally. An obvious lie, but without knowing more about the state of the empire she couldn't put together anything more convincing.

"Lost. Of course. And I suppose you just happened to wander into the old imperial shrines."

Kasumi tried a winsome smile. "I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I wandered out of them."

He chuckled again. "Hardly. You were lucky indeed that the old guardian construct broke down when it did. It's set to kill intruders on sight."

Kasumi grimaced. "I noticed. Not very hospitable of you." She reached up to her scalp and felt a raised scar from that last fall. Funny. She didn't feel lucky at all.

The monk shrugged. "No matter. Dealing with trespassers is not my responsibility, although I'll have to petition the Ministry to assign a few guards. It would hardly do to allow grave robbers to ransack what remains of the imperial tombs."

"I take it letting me go back to the shrines would be out of the question. I have a few questions for the gods, as it were."

"I'm afraid not. You're welcome to wander the monastery here, but I must insist you not leave." The monk paused. "Besides, the gods have not answered our prayers in centuries. Why would yours be any different?"

Centuries. The word struck her like one of Argo's meteors. Unexpectedly her legs wobbled, and she sat abruptly on the bed. The monk stepped forward solicitously. "Dizziness? Headache? You took quite the blow to the head; such things can sometimes leave lasting damage without proper care."

Kasumi waved him off, her mind whirling. Centuries. That was impossible, of course. She didn't feel a day older than- when? She wasn't sure what she last remembered before awakening in the tombs. Still... "What...what year is it?" she managed to ask.

The monk frowned. "Loss of memory is not uncommon. It will return to you in time."

Kasumi stood abruptly and grasped the monk's habit by the neck, pulling him in close. "What. Year. Is. It," she grated out.

The monk merely shook his head. "I'm sorry, I cannot answer any of your questions. My instructions were quite clear."

"Instructions? From who?"

The monk raised an eyebrow. "Was that a question, child?"

Kasumi released his collar with a snarl. Damned fool monk didn't know enough to be intimidated. Even if he did- She could probably take him down, trash the room, maybe even the entire monastery, and she doubted he would be any more inclined to answer. Besides, he had saved her life. If nothing else, she was pretty sure that had been the truth. Smashing her way out would be a poor repayment for his kindness.

"Very well. You will not answer my questions, and you will not permit me to leave. I wonder if you are permitted to give me a tour."

The monk smiled. "Cleverly phrased. Very well; if you'll follow me, I'll show you around our humble home."

Kasumi sat surrounded by the gardens, her eyes closed, feeling the late afternoon sun warm her face and listening to the chirp and warble of birdsong. She couldn't remember the last time she had just sat, and let the world pass around her. Always some new adventure to explore, or some dire crisis to defuse. She tended to forget that it was these moments that made life worth fighting for in the first place.

Of course, without her, there wouldn't be many quiet moments for anyone. The gods had granted her many gifts, but peace had not been among them.

It seemed the gods had not been kind to the monks of this place, either. The stone bench had been delicately carved, once, but worn smooth by wind and rain and generations of cassocks. The walls once pristine stonework were a patchwork of masonry and wood-braced earthworks. The contemplative pool was dry, its tiled stones appropriated to patch leaking roofs and line the narrow paths between rows of vegetables. A place of beauty and meditation, converted to a pittance of farmland. It couldn't be enough, not even to feed the scant handful of monks she had seen.

Kasumi opened her eyes and looked over at the old monk seated beside her. The question must have been clear on her face. The monk smiled sadly. "My predecessors' records say that this place was once bursting with life. Dozens of monks lost in contemplation of the divine mysteries, visiting scholars to study a library unmatched across the empire, novices running and playing between their duties. But the gods have been silent too long. Every year, fewer people bring their children to be blessed. Every year, fewer of the injured ask for our healing. Fewer of the devout leave offerings, or make donations to support our ministry. Fewer novices to instruct in the mysteries."

Kasumi blinked in confusion. "But surely the other monasteries can lend aid-"

The monk shook his head. "Child, there are no other monasteries." He stood, and let his gaze pass over the gardens. "Grenth teaches that all things must pass in their time. Some say the gods themselves have passed, and the time has come for their disciples to follow. We few choose instead to keep their memory alive. The Ministry offers to give us what we need, but as long as our backs and our wills are strong, we will serve no masters this side of the Mists."

Kasumi stood, and bowed her head in respect. "I am certain," she said softly, "that such conviction reaches the gods no matter how distant they may become."

The monk smiled. "That is kind of you to say, child. Would that you had come to us under different circumstances. You would have made a fine priestess."

Now there was an amusing notion. Somehow she suspected a priest should spend more time praising the gods than questioning them - or cursing them.

Yes, she'd certainly had her differences with the gods in the past. Still, she couldn't imagine Cantha without them, or their servants. It was good of the Celestial Ministry to offer-

Kasumi frowned. Benevolence and charity weren't exactly traits she'd associate with those puffed-up bureaucrats.

For that matter- "Under different circumstances?"

The monk smiled tightly. "I'm afraid that robbing the Imperial tombs might disqualify you."

Kasumi bristled. A tomb robber? Her? That was- Well, she supposed that technically the Provernic crypts counted, although that was more about the lich than the treasure. Then there was the fallen city of Fahranur, but that didn't count. Either time. It wasn't *supposed* to be filled with the dead. The catacombs of Ascalon, those definitely counted, but she hadn't actually taken anything. For that matter, she hadn't taken anything of value from the Imperial tombs either, not unless her wooden slippers and burial robes qualified as national heirlooms.

Of course, if they really were hers, they just might qualify at that.

She broke from her ruminations with a start as a junior monk entered the garden with rather more haste than might be considered appropriately contemplative. He bowed swiftly. "Master Lim, the Ministry guards-"

Three men and a woman pushed in on the monk's heels, wearing identical white tunics with linked-circle insignia embroidered in gold thread. The woman looked to be the leader, her hand on a sheathed sword in the traditional Canthan style. Two of the others carried ready truncheons, and the last a coil of stout silken rope.

The woman gestured negligently at Kasumi. "She the one?" The old monk nodded, and in Kasumi's moment of shock two of the guards stepped forward to pin her arms behind her, the third already wrapping the rope's silken coils around her wrists as her stunned gaze fell on the upon the old monk.

He shook his head sorrowfully. "We serve no masters but the Gods, but we are no less bound to the law than the lowliest beggar. Confess, and they may grant you a quick death."

Kasumi's shock boiled over into fury. "This is outrageous! I demand a meeting with a magistrate! I demand-"

The woman officer casually backhanded her across the face. "The prisoner will be silent." She sounded bored, and the rational part of Kasumi's mind wondered just how routine these arrests were.

Kasumi felt a drop of blood trickle down from her cut lip and with a mental effort restrained her fury. "I demand to see the Emperor at once."

The officer raised her hand once more, but the other guards laughed, and after a moment the officer quirked her lips in what was almost a smile. "Oh, don't worry. You'll be seeing the Emperor soon." Dark amusement this time. Somehow that didn't feel like an improvement over her prior boredom.

"Child," the old monk said softly, "the Imperial line ended over a century ago. The Ministry rules Cantha."

With the rope tightly binding her wrists and those words echoing in her ears, Kasumi was shoved back through the door to begin her journey as a prisoner.

It was out of respect for the last monks of Cantha that Kasumi waited until her impromptu party was well down the path. They had betrayed her to the Ministry, perhaps, but it didn't seem like they had much choice, and it wouldn't do to wreck their home teaching these overconfident thugs not to underestimate her. Besides, the survivors might accuse the monks of helping her to escape - she suspected there was very little love lost there, and it might look better to their superiors than getting handily defeated by a single unarmed woman.

They had the sense to keep her hands bound, not that it would do them much good. There was far too much slack between her wrists and the guard behind holding her leash, and the two on either side had stowed their truncheons. Only the officer with her sword posed any real danger, and she was too far ahead to support her subordinates in time.

She smiled wryly. After all she had done for the Empire, this wasn't exactly the homecoming procession she figured she deserved.

Kasumi returned her attention to her bonds. A few surreptitious tugs had shown she was unlikely to slip out of the ropes on dexterity alone. Kasumi grimaced. Mai could have untied herself in a heartbeat, or Kisai could have chilled the rope into icy brittleness. She was going to have to improvise.

Ahead, the officer disappeared around one of the path's switchbacks, and Kasumi feigned a stumble, turning and falling hard into the guard on her right. Caught in the middle of his stride, he lost his balance in turn, and staggered off to the side as the guard to her left reached for his club. The latter stepped forward menacingly-

And Kasumi finished her silent incantation in a sudden burst of azure radiance, rending the silken bonds about her wrists into a flaming ruin. Her freed left arm came up to block the falling truncheon, channeling the shock and pain of the blow into her magic as she mouthed another supplication to her ancestors. It was going to be close. The second guard had dropped the remnants of her leash and was reaching for his own truncheon; the third guard behind her was almost certainly back on his feet and coming to the aid of his companions.

The club fell again, and she took the blow on her shoulder to avoid disrupting her ritual. The guard readied his weapon once more-

And from the path's worn cobblestones rose three ghostly figures with unnatural shapes and horrifying visages, the sockets of their eyes blazing with madness. Spirits of anger, hate, and suffering, bound to the earth with chains of raw spirit energy and bound to her service by sheer force of will. The guards before her froze in horror, and she heard a clatter from behind as the third guard's truncheon fell from nerveless fingers.

One of the guards screamed, and with a gesture she loosed her spirits onto her enemies, ghostly hands reaching up to grasp the guards in their deathly embrace. The spirit's touch began to swiftly drain the guards of their vital force, and each collapsed onto the cobblestones as the officer finally rounded the switchback ahead, sword in hand and bloodlust in her eyes. Kasumi focused her will and summoned binding chains of spirit energy, and with a negligent gesture wrapped them about the charging warrior.

The officer fell hard onto the cobblestones almost at Kasumi's feet, her arms and legs painfully bound by the spirit chains, and Kasumi smiled coldly at the reversal of fortunes. "Foolish girl. I cast down the Betrayer. I defeated the lich and sealed the Door of Komalie. Your pathetic excuse for a challenge isn't even deserving of my pity." Kasumi watched the officer struggle for a moment against the chains of otherworldly energy. "It's useless, you know. The more you resist, the more painful the spell becomes. Sooner or later, you'll not be able to move. Shortly thereafter, you'll be unable to breathe." The unearthly moans of her spirits mixed with the fading cries of the other guards. "Of course, once my spirits have finished with their prey, I will let them feed upon you."

"No," the officer choked out. Her breath was ragged from the pain of the spell and the tightness around her chest. "Whatever you want. Anything. Just don't let those...things near me."

Kasumi waved her hand, and the spirits dissipated into the evening breeze. She knelt down and took the woman's sword from where it had fallen. "Is it true, then? Has the Imperial line truly ended?"

The other woman laughed bitterly. "You want a history lesson? Now?" She coughed. "Fine. The last Emperor died over a hundred years ago. The imperial family with him, murdered by demons. The entire palace is a haunted ruin now." She glared up at Kasumi. "But then you'd know that, wouldn't you. Diabolist. You'll never get away with this, you know. The Ministry will find you, and they will burn you alive."

Kasumi shrugged. "The entire Kournan army couldn't manage that. I'll take my chances." She reached down and lifted the officer's chin, then looked down and watched the fire in her eyes slowly fade into resignation. "I'll release the binding chains now if you promise to behave."

The officer was silent for a long moment, then nodded. Kasumi smiled. "You see, I can be reasonable." She waved her hand, and the spirit chains faded into nothingness. "Your guards will live, and as long as you don't do anything stupid you'll all be fine in a few day's time." Her smile faded. "Of course, if you come after me, I'll send my spirits after you. You don't want that, do you?" The officer shook her head vigorously. "Good. I suggest you stay put for a while."

"One other thing. I'm going to need your coin purse." Kasumi smiled again. "I'd say it's the least you can do for the inconvenience you've put me through. Don't you think?"

The officer glared at her once more, but reached into the tunic of her uniform and pulled out a leather bag the size of her palm. She held it out to Kasumi with a grimace. "Anything else?"

Kasumi shook her head. "Not at all. You've been most helpful. I'll be sure to mention how...cooperative you were the next time I run into the Ministry."

Kasumi rose to leave, and then paused. "Actually, there's one more thing you can do for me." It was probably just as well the other woman couldn't see her smile. "I'm going to need your uniform."


	9. Blooded

**~~~ Chapter 9: Blooded ~~~**

_Shing Jea Monastery, Shing Jea Island, Cantha  
1576 (Canthan Calendar), Season of the Scion_

Kasumi loosed another bolt of spirit-granted energy from her practice scepter, and managed to hold back a curse as it crackled well wide of the mantid hatching scuttling about before her. Her fellow students seemed to be faring little better, their own bolts of lightning and balls of flame and bursts of holy light zipping about the ambient background of muttered imprecations, punctuated by the occasional yelp as a mis-aimed or mis-fired spell caught a comrade instead of the carpet of diminutive vermin.

They were fast, Grenth take them, and prone to sudden changes in course and heading, not that most of the students could reliably hit a target that small to begin with. At least their new-hatched claws and mandibles were yet too soft to pierce the hardened leather of the students' boots and leggings. It didn't stop them from trying, of course, and an enterprising few had tried to swarm up the sides of these strange nest invaders and attack the vulnerable flesh of the arms or torso. Already several students had taken vicious bites and quit the field for safety behind the lines, their shouts of pain leaving the rest with an added incentive to strike the creatures down from afar.

And, of course, offering additional practice to the second-year monk students waiting behind with valuable practice healing battle injuries. Tasks at the monastery often had interlocking lessons.

Another mantid scuttled up beneath her scepter's aim, and Kasumi felt its mandibles scrabbling at her reinforced boot in its desperate hatching hunger. She brought her other boot down, hard, and grimaced at the sickening crunch. They were supposed to defeat the vermin with magic, but she'd already seen another student give himself a nasty shock trying to shoot a mantid off his leg, and nearly tumble face-down into the swarm for his troubles.

Kasumi shuddered at the thought. If any of them were to slip, the monks would have no shortage of practice.

She focused on her wand once more, trying to fight down her instinct to control and letting her own magic resonate with the wood's ambient energies. Kisai had been very patient indeed, and Kasumi made a mental note to thank the other girl once again. It still seemed unnatural, to subordinate her will to a bit of inanimate driftwood, but as difficult as she might find it harmony, not dominance, was needed to attune a focus weapon. Of course, that sort of calm was hard to find in the middle of battle. She supposed that achieving it was part of this lesson as well.

Kasumi loosed another crackling bolt and watched it catch another of the mantid hatchlings, which promptly burst with a satisfying sizzle and a splatter of ichor. The other students seemed to have their aim more or less down, as well. For that matter, the swarm itself seemed to be thinning out, the tide of chitinous black from the nests reduced to a mere trickle. Just as well; her scepter arm was starting to get tired from the unaccustomed weight. She grimaced; she'd mastered her scepter quickly enough, but even for her that was no substitute for practice. Long, dull hours of practice.

It took a few minutes more for the students to dispatch the last few stragglers from the hatchling swarm. With any luck, the vermin would be only a minor nuisance to the monastery, or the farmers in the vale below, in the coming year. "Well done, students", instructor Ng called out. "Any of you with injuries, please see the healers at once; the rest of you, we are breaking for a meal and a rest. Don't forget to tend to your equipment, and be ready to resume combat training in one hours time."

Kasumi affixed her scepter to her belt holster with a grateful sigh and took a moment to massage some of the tension from her wrist. Yes, she definitely needed more practice with the weapon. Even if she wasn't likely to need such things once she graduated, self-defense was an important skill in its own right. Besides, she would certainly need to master it during her time at the monastery, whether she chose to be a hot-blooded mercenary or a calm scholar after.

She smiled at the notion. Her, a dealer of death and destruction. She might be a bit short-tempered, and perhaps in her most honest moments over-proud, but she was far better suited for her planned life of mercantile travel and study. By the time Cantha needed her to protect it, the empire would be in serious trouble indeed.

Kasumi took her steamed bun ration from her satchel and looked around for a reasonably comfortable place to sit down that wasn't already covered in mantid ichor. The mantid nests had no shortage of jagged bits and hidden holes to catch unwary ankles, and sheltered from the worst of the weather by a convenient ridge there were few places that had eroded smooth. Just getting to the site without the mantid's penchant for climbing sheer rock had been an adventure in and of itself.

Across the field, Kisai caught her eye, and the other girl waved with a tentative smile. She seemed unhurt, not that Kasumi was surprised. The girl had an impressive amount of raw talent, if not always the confidence needed to put it to use. Once they graduated, and Kasumi had no doubt that both would do so with honours, Kasumi planned to offer her a commission as a weather wizard aboard her trade fleet. Kisai would love the travel, Kasumi was certain, and to be perfectly honest Kasumi would welcome the other girl's company on the long voyages to Lion's Arch.

And on the thought of company- Kasumi stepped carefully across the field of nests to where her friend was waiting, and smiled. It felt more natural, now, the long months of practice with Mai and Kisai making a world of difference. No, months of companionship, she reminded herself. Perhaps not enough, yet, to redeem years at sea and on her family's isolated estate, but she was determined to make up for lost time.

Assuming, of course, she could remember to treat her friends as friends. Not as allies, not as resources, not as trading partners or marks. And on that note- "Thanks," Kasumi said quietly. That, too, was getting easier, little by little.

Kisai smiled again. "Whatever for?"

"Helping me attune with my scepter."

"Oh, it was the least I could do, really." The other girl's smile was brilliant. "After all the time you spent with me on spell theory and basics of conjuration. I'm just glad I could return the favor. You're so smart, I don't know what I would do without your help."

Kasumi smiled wryly. "Of course. What are friends for?"

"All right, students, form up." Kasumi grimaced and wiped away the last traces of her steamed pork bun. This combat training was all well and good, she supposed, but instructor Ng was overdoing things just a bit. Abruptly she frowned; there were more students gathering than she remembered from before - and some of them had the shoulder insigniae of heretofore unrepresented professions. The verdant paw print of a ranger, the crossed violet blades of an assassin, the golden shield of a warrior. Come to think of it, on sheer numbers alone the group had grown to include nearly all of the monastery's first-year students.

"All of you have now had a chance to practice your skills against live opponents. But mastering your skills alone is not enough to keep you alive in real combat. You must always be prepared to fight alone to protect yourself or on behalf of Cantha, but a team of adventurers will always be stronger together than on their own. To do that, however, takes teamwork. It takes trust." The instructor looked out over the assembled students. "When that day comes, who will you be able to trust?"

An assassin student bowed in the front row. "I will trust my guild, instructor."

"Good. Who else?"

"My fellow guardsman." A woman this time, bearing a golden shield insignia.

"You plan to join the imperial guards?" The woman nodded once, with a mix of quiet pride and determination. "Good. It is a difficult road that you have chosen, but Cantha needs loyal soldiers to protect her people. I can promise you that if you are accepted, there is no cadre more loyal." He looked around once more. "Anyone else?"

Kisai bowed. "Instructor, I can trust in my friends."

Instructor Ng nodded. "Here at the monastery, yes. Just remember that outside of these walls, few will possess your talent or your training. And that is as it should be," he added, raising his voice to boom across the broken field. "The imperial guards, the graduates of the monastery, the private guilds, these help keep Cantha safe. But always remember, it is the people - farmers and merchants, ministers and craftsmen - that make Cantha strong. In the end, it is them that we serve, and the Emperor who watches over them, may his reign be long and prosperous."

The instructor gestured at the assembled students. "For now, you will learn to trust in one another. Form into groups of four. I recommend you find an appropriate balance of skills as best you can. Unless, of course, you wish to donate your time to some of our second-year monk students who have so graciously volunteered their time. I am sure they would be most appreciative."

The class bowed as one to the instructor, then began to glance at one another speculatively. Team exercises were a moment that some had awaited eagerly and others with dread. Kasumi figured she fell in between the two, although the sanctimonious lecture on trust was pushing her toward the latter. She could take care of herself, and the thought of entrusting her safety to her teammates wasn't an entirely comfortable one.

Which was the entire point, Kasumi supposed, and as the ordered rows of students dissolved into a confused sprawl she began to weave her way through the crowd toward the two people she felt she could trust.

She'd made it more than halfway to Kisai when the latter was all but bowled over by a trio of her own classmates, and Kasumi frowned. Clearly, they hadn't paid much heed to the instructor's lecture on the importance of a balanced group, even if each had chosen a different element on which to focus. And that was to say nothing of the fact that their one team had concentrated a third of the first-year elemental students.

Kasumi was debating whether to suggest that Kisai reconsider when a hand clasped her firmly on the shoulder. She spun around to see Mai standing right behind her; clearly, the latter's lessons on stealth and misdirection were being taken to heart.

"Looks like Kisai's already got a group together," Mai said with a smile. "She's been tutoring them, you know." Kasumi blinked in surprise. "Apparently she was inspired by another friend who has been helping her, although she wouldn't say who."

It was more or less clear that Mai had her suspicions, but Kasumi kept her face carefully neutral. "Good for her, then. She does seem more confident lately." The other girl nodded. "Actually, I'm surprised you didn't get to her first. I hear the two of you have been spending a lot of time together."

Mai reddened, and Kasumi enjoyed a slight smile at her friend's discomfiture. It was an open secret that Mai and Kisai had been spending a lot of late nights "studying" together. Actually, many of the other students in her year had drifted into relationships with varying degrees of stability, including several pairings of female students and at least one between two male warriors. The Kurzick students abstained from such things as a group, claiming that such activities displeased the gods, but the Luxons seemed determined that they would personally ensure that the vassal state contingent would as a whole kept up with their fellow students.

As for her- Kasumi looked at Mai for a long moment. It certainly seemed to make her friends happy. She supposed there were a handful of male students she'd like to get to know better. It never really seemed to be the right time, though, and if she sometimes had trouble relating personally with her close companions, she was even less likely to put herself forward for a stranger. No matter how he made her tingle.

Abruptly Kasumi realised she had been woolgathering again, and shook her head to clear away the errant thoughts. Mai smiled knowingly. "Thinking about a pillow friend of your own?" It was Kasumi's turn to blush. "I bet I could find someone to catch your fancy. After the exercise, of course. We need one more for our group. Care to join us?"

It looked like most of the other students had already formed up. Not, of course, that she had any objection to working with Mai. The other girl was skilled enough in her profession and had a certain ruthlessness about her that Kasumi found she could relate to. She smiled. "Of course."

Mai took a half step aside, gesturing at a woman behind her with a scepter the blue monk's ankh and a young man with a short bow and ranger's verdant insignia. "Kasumi, meet Taya and Yuun."

Kasumi recognized the young monk from the shared classes on the basics of magic. She bowed to both. "Kasumi Mizushima. I am sure that together, we will prevail."

Mai grinned widely. "That's the spirit. These mantids won't know what hit them."


	10. The Long Shadow of History

**~~~ Chapter 10: The Long Shadow of History ~~~**

_Marketplace, Kaineng Center, Cantha  
Season of the Phoenix_

Two hundred and fifty years, and Kaineng City hadn't changed. The same unique patchwork of soaring Canthan architecture and ramshackle refugee shelters built half a dozen high. The same crowds on the streets, ragged peasants and silk-draped merchants, soldiers and street hawkers, even the occasional minor minister's entourage, rushing about on a self-importantly pointless errand. The city even smelled the same, a distinctive melange of spice and wood smoke, the rare waft of tar and salt spray from the distant harbor, and beneath it all the unmistakable aroma of mingled humanity.

Kasumi Mizushima sat and took another sip of her tea as she watched another pair of white-clad guards walk past. She grimaced; that was the third such patrol in the past half hour alone. Either she'd managed to find a restaurant practically on top of some precinct station, or this new Ministry had the manpower to blanket the city with its thugs. Under the circumstances, she rather hoped it wasn't the latter.

She paused and took another look around the little shop. Not quite a hawker stall, nor quite a proper restaurant, places like these were the foundation of the city. Of course, normally they were a bit livelier, but the silence was broken only by the sizzle of fat and hiss of steam from the kitchen, underlied by the constant low murmur from the street beyond. A few of the patrons had quietly slipped out when they thought she wasn't looking, and the rest stared resolutely at their empty bowls in a concerted effort not to meet her gaze.

She glanced down again at her purloined uniform. Better than the borrowed monk's habit, no doubt, and certainly an improvement over the tattered rags she'd made of her erstwhile burial robes, but it drew a bit too much attention and sooner or later that attention was going to prove unhealthy for someone. Possibly even for her.

And on top of everything else, while she'd been asleep some meddlesome idiot had gone and changed the entire Empire's writing system. From her window-side table Kasumi could see perhaps a handful of the traditional characters adorning signs and shops, but the rest- Well, it was certainly a close relative of the Canthan script she remembered, but the individual characters were much simpler, and there were rather more of them on each sign. She was fairly certain that she could master them with a little study, but at the moment she was rather pressed for time.

Kasumi shook her head. Figured. Three thousand years of history, and the minute she turned her back the whole place went to seed. Clearly, it wasn't going to be easy setting things right.

Not, strictly speaking, that things had ever been easy around her.

At least the mutinous rumbling of her stomach had subsided. That had been a little too distracting while trying to focus on avoiding her "fellow" guards. She shook her head again; she hadn't counted on regular meals crossing the Shiverpeaks with Mhenlo and his company, or when assaulting Abaddon's twisted demesne. All that easy living since must have made her soft. Although to be fair, she couldn't actually remember the last time she'd eaten. The monks had been less than hospitable, all things considered, and before that...was still emptiness. One more thing to confront the gods about when she caught up with them.

And she would find them, and she *would* get answers. After all, she'd already killed one of them.

Kasumi shook her head one more time and smiled tightly to herself. Enough woolgathering; it was time to start planning her next step. With food taken care of for the moment, she needed three things - anonymity, resources, and answers. The last were proving frustratingly elusive, and seeking the second without acquiring the first would likely draw unwanted attention, which meant her stolen uniform should be the next thing to go. Just as well; it was starting to pinch rather uncomfortably, and she grimaced. She'd *definitely* gone soft.

Simply wandering around in search of a tailor was probably not an ideal approach, especially with the temporary problem of her newfound illiteracy. Fortunately, as long as she still wore it, the Ministry uniform offered certain advantages as well. She set down her tea and walked to the restaurant's front counter, meeting the proprietor's nervous obsequiousness with an air of impatient officiality. "Wrap up two large pork buns for me." The man stood for a moment, then elbowed his assistant, a young girl - his daughter, perhaps - who jumped and then rushed back to confer with the cooks in a rapid undertone. "And give me directions to the closest tailor."

She listened for a moment, committing the man's instructions to memory, then reached into her purloined purse and pulled out a small piece of silver. The man's eyes widened in fear. "Please, officer, no need to test us. We are loyal to the Ministry. No charge, of course."

Kasumi replaced the coin and managed a cold smile. "Your loyalty is admirable, citizen. You and yours are a credit to the Empire."

The young girl returned with her steamed buns, wrapped carefully in twine and rice paper, and Kasumi tucked them into her uniform. After all, she couldn't be sure when next she would be able to stop and eat. She turned to go - and paused, then with a tight smile dropped the coin she'd palmed. The silver piece tumbled to the floor with a metallic chime as she walked out without a backward glance. Hopefully the proprietor would find the courage to pick it up. She grimaced. It was more likely she could return in a week and find the coin still waiting for her.

Kasumi Mizushima pulled the cowl of her new hooded cloak tighter about her head, trying to conceal the telltale hue of her striking crimson hair against the curious gaze of passers-by - and the prying eyes of Ministry soldiers. The guards she had left behind were almost certainly awake by now, and were like as not spreading her description as fast as their legs could carry them. That, or if they were smart, running just as fast in the opposite direction.

Then again, she didn't particularly expect such wisdom from those incompetents. Sooner rather than later these streets would be swarming with white-clad zealots on a very literal witch hunt, and she'd prefer to remain unseen as long as possible. She had things to do, and no particular desire to waste time putting down every idiot who thought he or she could stop her.  
At least she'd been right about the Xunlai guild. The familiar sign stood proudly over what could only be the guild's local office, an imposing structure of gleaming marble, blazing cinnabar and what looked like actual gold filigree looming a the steady stream of merchants, minor nobles and low-level bureaucrats. Ostentatious, but she supposed the guild could afford it. The important part, at least for her, was that the new Ministry didn't seem to have it under surveillance yet.

Whoever they were. It wasn't the most important mystery she was facing, but it might be the most urgent. Granted, the white uniforms were a disturbingly familiar touch, and the stark light-against-darkness demonization of their enemies, but- No. Absolutely not. She should have known from the start not to trust anyone who viewed "Purity" as a virtue, no matter how useful their assistance against the remnants of the betrayer's plague, but when they had turned against the people of Cantha - turned against her - she'd put them down. Hard.

Whatever else Kasumi could be sure of, she knew that the Ministry of Purity lay in an unmarked grave along with the bodies of its patrons, coldly calculating Minister Reiko Murakami and the star-crossed Yuudaichi siblings, cruelly manipulated brother and grief-stricken sister alike. Despite herself she turned that bloody day over in her mind once more, wondering if things could have ended differently - but no, she had been left with no choice. The foolish boy wished to continue the madness his power-crazed guardian had begun, and the elder sister...she protected her last remaining family until the end. The good of the people of Cantha, the nation's future, balanced against sympathy for a boy used as a pawn and a sister protecting her last remaining family...

No, she'd had no choice that day. No choice at all.

Still no sign of surveillance on the Xunlai house, which meant that it was time to move. She set down the jewelry she had been ostensibly inspecting, shook her head at the merchant's last-ditch effort to strike a bargain, and headed out into the main flow of foot traffic on the street. Despite herself, she smiled slightly. Once she had some of her equipment back, she'd feel a lot less vulnerable. A suit of her armor, to protect against blows and weapons, and rune-marked to strengthen her magic besides. A staff for power, or a paired wand and focus for precision, or possibly both; she was likely to need flexibility and sheer strength in equal measure. Probably a few of the little trinkets and sundries as well, useful bits she'd collected across four campaigns on three continents.

Yes, once she had her equipment back - once she was not a woman unarmed and unarmored, but in full possession once more of every jot of tools and scrap of magic she'd collected to augment her own considerable gifts - the balance of power was going to shift dramatically and decisively.

And then it would be time for her to start hunting the Ministry.

That thought carried Kasumi down the street and through the wide doors of the Xunlai house itself, and as she passed a mirror-smooth silver pane she checked once more to ensure no tell-tale cinnabar hairs were showing from beneath her voluminous hood. She seemed to be good for the moment, although the back of her neck itched with imagined eyes on her. She hated this sneak-and-dagger nonsense. Leave it to Tyrian thieves, or proper Canthan assassins, or those maddeningly-elusive Whispers agents-

Kasumi frowned. She hadn't thought of the Order of Whispers in over a year, not since rebuffing their final attempt to give her marching orders. Accepting their aid in the long campaign against Abaddon was one thing, as was joining their expedition back into the realm of torment to cast down its new margonite lord and his four dark generals, but she served the Emperor first, the Empire second and nobody third, lightbringer rank or no. She wondered why she had suddenly remembered them, and frowned. There was something at the edge of her mind, some combination of half-remembered memory and recent observation, but she couldn't place it, and she pushed it out of her mind. Time enough later to tie up loose ends.

She slipped quietly into one of the service queues, then thought better of it and strode confidently up to the main counter - she was going to need full access to her personal vault and without prying eyes, let alone in front of a crowd. Besides, she was playing the part of a loyal citizen, with nothing to hide from the Ministry or the guild. No need to skulk about. As she reached the counter, she slipped the sole gold coin from her purloined purse and began flipping it idly between her fingers. A parlor trick she'd learned from a Vabbian actor, once upon a time, but given her relatively plain garb it couldn't hurt to reinforce an image of wealth.

It took her a moment to catch the notice of an attendant, and Kasumi tried to project an air of mild impatience laced with a touch of boredom. With her lack of ostentatious finery or drapes of jewels, she could hardly pass as even a minor noble or wealthy merchant, although some citizens of more modest means could afford to share a vault, businessmen with a joint interest or an extended family with more trust than gold. With a little luck, she could pass herself off as the former, and-

"Yes, what can the Xunlai do for you today?" The attendant's tone oozed with a carefully calculated degree of condescension, and Kasumi fought the momentary urge to conjure a nightmare spirit to straighten up his attitude.  
Regrettably, the gibbering would likely draw unwanted attention, and so she swallowed her anger. "I need to access my personal vault."

The man looked Kasumi up and down, taking in her well-crafted but plain garb and her lack of guards, servants, or other such hangers-on. "Perhaps you should try the public window."

Kasumi drew herself up to her full height and dropped her voice a few degrees. Time for a little condescension of her own. "Was I unclear when I said my vault? I do not have time to stand here and argue with an apprentice who has forgotten his tongue."  
The attendant blinked, and Kasumi mentally held her breath. Canthans could be touchy about their social hierarchies. Either he was going to back down before an unexpectedly superior foe, or he was about to bring down the full bureaucratic wrath of the guild on the uppity commoner. She watched his face for a moment, weighing the two possibilities, and as he seemed to come to a decision she flipped the gold coin in his direction. "For prompt service," she said, and hoped the sarcasm was lost on him.

He may have been socially incapable of tact and likely not particularly bright besides, but the man had quick fingers, and snatched the coin right out of the air. "Of course, ma'am. Right this way, please." The change in his demeanor was as complete as it was abrupt, and like as not was as insincere as well. Not that it particularly mattered, of course, as long as he gave her access to her vault without a commotion.

The pair reached the private chambers in the back, and waited for a few long moments until a bejowled man in overly elaborate silk finery stepped out, flanked by a matched set of bodyguards in flowing garb. Something in the man's tunic jingled musically as he strode past; withdrawing gold, most likely, which would explain the guards. Of course, men with his apparent fortunes had rarely earned them without a matching share of enemies. Either way, she kept a careful distance from the trio as they passed.

The vault chambers were plain, almost spartan in comparison to the opulent excesses of the rest of the guild house; a small room perhaps two meters across, and twice that between the doorway and the far wall. Against that wall stood the vault, a box of rare Elonian hardwoods and cold iron fixtures - and, of course, the secret enchantments of the Xunlai artificers that linked that vault to every one of its twins, cousins, and relatives across Cantha and abroad, and showed each owner the contents of their personal accounts alone when opened. No one outside the guild knew how they worked, and it was rumored that the Xunlai employed a veritable army of assassins to keep it that way.

For her purposes, of course, it was merely necessary that it did work. Kasumi glanced at the attendant. "You may wait outside," she said pointedly, and the man hurried back through the doorway and drew a sliding curtain across the threshold. As she'd expected, the patrons who could afford individual vault access were rather keen on maintaining their privacy.  
So this was it, then; the turning point in her little war against the Ministry usurpers. One touch of the vault's lid, a few minutes searching for the tool's she would need, and-

Her palm brushed the vault, and she drew it back with a curse as she felt a shock of raw magical energy. A misfiring security enchantment, perhaps? She blinked, and an array of written characters faded into lurid red luminance in the empty air above the vault. "This account has been sealed. Please contact your Xunlai storage representative for assistance."

Kasumi suppressed another curse. "Attendant! Get in here!"

The privacy curtain slid back, and as the attendant stepped into the room she could see that his pretense at respect had been as short-lived as it had been mercenary. She was going to have to bluster through; that, or leave empty-handed, and she wasn't particularly looking forward to the prospect of overthrowing the government empty-handed. She put as much scorn into her voice as she could manage. "What is the meaning of this?"

His lip twisted back into it's contemptuous sneer, one that melted as swiftly into confusion as he stared at the array of strange glyphs above the vault. "I...I do not know?" he managed to say, and as he ducked back out Kasumi understood that just as she could not yet read the Empire's new writing system, nor could the average Canthan understand the traditional characters. And, that the vault had somehow labelled her as belonging to that previous era. Once again she contemplated slipping out, balancing her need for equipment against a growing sense of danger-

The attendant returned, this time in the tow of an older woman in a guild uniform, graying hair pulled back into a tight bun and bearing an unmistakable aura of authority. She, too, frowned at the floating warning, then glanced back at the attendant standing behind her. "The vault is not broken, child. This is the old writing system. Strange that the message should appear thusly, but I am sure there is no serious error here." She looked forward again and met Kasumi's gaze. "I am sorry for the trouble, miss, but your account has been sealed."

Kasumi fought another surge of frustration. Bullying a self-entitled doorman was one thing, but nobody tried to strong-arm a senior Xunlai representative. Not the wealthiest merchant, not the best-connected noble, not the emperor himself. She took a deep breath and forced a smile that she hoped was a reasonable facsimile of deferential. "Sealed? For what reason?"

"I will have to check our records, miss, but I am sure it is a routine issue. If you would care to wait outside, I will look into the matter personally."

Kasumi nodded in acknowledgment, and hoped she was keeping her impatience more or less hidden. "I appreciate your kind concern."

"Of course! The Xunlai guild is committed to providing the best service to all of our customers." The representative gave another bright smile as she, Kasumi and the attendant stepped back into the antechamber. "Please hand me your citizenship papers, and we will get right on it."


End file.
